Ivywood Lane Agency
by MySweetMelancholy
Summary: Meet the agents of 31 Ivywood Lane, a fresh independent agency fighting against the paranormal activity surrounding London. Toby Gallenhood; the cold and seemingly unfeeling leader; Eliza Sorrem; the one with the wits; William Stonegarden; the light-hearted clown; and the newest agent, Madeline Frost. Secrets and obstacles batter the agency from all sides...can they withstand it?
1. Chapter 1 - A New Case

CHAPTER 1

You know it's bad when you're dangling off of a 10-story high building with harsh winds battering your ragged body against the stone. Worse, I was barely half-conscience. My senses were blurred; the only thing I could feel was the sharp pain of being slammed against concrete.

The sun sunk below the horizon, casting an orange light across the edges of concrete and highlighting the terror etched into my features.

My hands slid off the edge of the stone once more, and I tried to tighten my grip. My knuckles trembled with effort. A silent gasp escaped my mouth; I was going to die.

How I'd come from confidently emerging onto the roof for a pleasant breath of air to dangling off the establishment? I have no idea.

Below me, people poured across the pavement, hurrying to their homes or their dull jobs. They had no idea that a young girl was hanging off the edge of a roof above their heads.

I screamed for help. This was mostly useless, as the roaring of the wind drowned out my cries. Something about today's weather seemed vicious. Not just simply an unpleasant bout of gray clouds and a bit of rain, but it was like the winds were targeting me.

Terror sliced through my heart. My heavy work belt and the rapier hanging at my side dragged me down; as if the equipment that often saved my life had now betrayed me and was working with greater forces to end my life instead.

Suddenly a tall dark-haired boy burst free from a small shack that stood on the roof, his eyes widening as he spotted me. He raced over and bent down, grabbing me by my wrists.

The boy hauled me over the edge until I lay there, gasping with shock. I felt dizzy. My legs and hands felt tingly. Solid ground felt odd and unnatural.

"Madeline!" The boy said. "Are you alright?—What just happened?"

"What do you think happened, Toby?" I snapped. The loudness of my voice surprised me. The winds had suddenly stopped, like they were admitting a sour defeat. "I just got dangled off a building!"

Toby frowned. He got to his feet, reaching down as if gesturing to help me up.

I ignored his offer and unsteadily rose off the ground. I immediately regretted this, and swayed on my feet. Toby grabbed me just as I was about to topple over, steadying me once again.

"Let's get you inside," He said. I didn't argue this time, I just let myself lean on him as I limped along to the small shack where the door was.

I was greeted with faces of surprise and confusion as I stumbled through a tall, white-trimmed door. Toby was still supporting me as we slowly walked across the room, settling down between two other associates of ours.

Eliza threw me a bewildered glance. "Maddie! What happened to you?"

"Mrs. Frost!" Our client's outraged voice sounded faintly in the background. I didn't bother to look up. I stared down at my knees. "I expect you to be professional when dealing with matters like this. If you insist on acting like a child, then I shall take my business elsewhere—"

"I'm sorry," My voice was cracked. "I just needed some air—oh, don't be interrupted by me. Go on."

Our client, Mr. Lotterbox, frowned. For the first time, I could clearly make out his features; he was an old man, with grayed hair. Wrinkles indicating his age cascaded down a narrow, triangular face. He was scrawny and tall, and had the humor of a pineapple. Very thin-framed spectacles drooped down to a sharp, hook-like nose, and he paused a moment to fix their posture. He wore an expensive black suit with blue pinstripes.

"As I was saying, before this rude interruption," Mr. Lotterbox said, "My law firm is currently under some unwanted...stress," He hesitated, as if silently pondering how to put his statement in the most dignified fashion. "And before I go on, you must understand that my establishment has never been the site of a dangerous event. We use the best defenses produced by the Sunrise Corporation. Iron is built into every wall and door frame. My staff and other people who harbor their business here wear silver jewelry. Lavender is stuffed on top of every windowsill. I am aware of the dangers in this age."

Toby nodded, his voice tightly polite. "I have no doubts that you're a sensible and responsible man, Mr. Lotterbox. The matter will be dealt with swiftly and silently, I assure you."

The old man continued to be reluctant, but he finally relented. "Several weeks ago, I had a meeting with a woman by the name of Fiona Allingwell. I waited up here, in my office for her. My secretary called up to tell me that Ms. Allingwell was on her way up. I waited almost for another half-hour. Finally, I grew impatient, and marched up to that elevator to see if she was in the lobby or not. I never did make that trip down on that vicious contraption. The doors opened, and Ms. Allingwell was nowhere to be seen. There was only a puddle of blood."

There was a tense silence.

Finally, Toby spoke. His expression gave nothing away except polite interest. "Is this the first disappearance that involves the haunted elevator?"

Mr. Lotterbox only gave a millisecond of hesitation before replying, "Certainly not. I would have had it investigated if there was."

Toby gave a slow nod of understanding. "Of course...is there any other details you would like to inform us of?"

Lotterbox threw a quick, steely glance my way. "None surrounding the actual apparition, but I do have a specific request when you're at work."

"We'd be glad to meet any stipulation."

"Excellent...well, since I am aware of certain unfortunate incidents involving your agency in the field, I request that no magnesium flares may be used. Nor shall any damage come to my firm, or there will be a hefty sum to pay."

More utter, tense silence.

I stared at him. My body was still tingling, my nerves ruffled and senses disorientated, so I was too, well...out of it to feel anything stronger than faint uncertainty towards Mr. Lotterbox's request.

Toby, however, frowned. He stared down at the polished marble flooring, as if a million thoughts were running through his mind; the risk; the possible highly positive outcome; the possibility; the likely failure, and of course, our deaths. That was all on the line when Mr. Lotterbox made his 'specific request'.

Finally, just as Eliza opened her mouth to speak, eyes narrowed and a scowl on her face, Toby interrupted. "We will gladly meet your requests, Mr. Lotterbox. At what time shall we arrive?"

Earlier that day

I stumbled into the house and across the hallway, blurry-eyed and muscles aching. I collapsed on the sofa, feeling the hilt of my rapier jab my side as I did so.

William walked in after me and plopped down on the sofa opposite of me. He took off his work-belt and all the empty pouches fell to the floor.

We had been chasing a Wraith around a shopping center. About an hour after subduing the Wraith, we realized there was also a nasty Phantasm lurking about as well. Not to mention another Wraith that joined in the party soon after.

We weren't the best we had been, to say the least.

I ran my hand through my hair; my fingers brushed against grit and cobwebs that clung to me still.

"That was the most exhausting case I have ever been on," I said, pulling a wad of webs from my hair and shaking them off my arm.

"Yes, well…I suppose we should have researched it a bit." William sat up from the sofa with a wince. "But we did it."

I nodded. "Yeah. Remind me to listen to Eliza when it comes to cases like these," I stood up. "I'm going to go put away all my gear then wash up."

William made no comment. He only gave a nod of faint acknowledgment as I trudged back towards the hall.

I clasped my hand around the staircase, poised to march up the steps, but a dark shape frantically stumbling down the stairs made me hop to the side.

Toby was running down after Eliza, nearly leaping off the staircase to the floor.

I frowned. "What's going on?"

Eliza didn't reply. She simply gawked at me in wide-eyed disbelief. "Maddie! What are you doing? You're a mess! We told you...oh, wait..."

I lifted an eyebrow and stared at her. "Yes, you didn't tell me anything, did you?"

"We got a call," Toby said quickly, "From Mr. John Lotterbox-"

By now, William had heard the sound of feet thumping against steps and had wondered into the dim hallway. "Wait a second-Mr. John Lotterbox? Owner of the huge Lotterbox Lawfirm?"

Toby nodded. "That's him. Apparently, there's been some paranormal activity surrounding the firm. He's arranged an interview-" His gaze flickered from me to William, "With every single member of the Ivywood Lane Agency."

My heart pounded in my chest. My feet felt light and my legs felt numb. "When?" I said quietly.

Toby glanced down at his watch. "In about...thirty minutes."

"I have to wash up," I turned to the stairs, but Eliza stopped me.

"There's not enough time," She glanced over at William. "Fetch a wet washcloth and clean yourself up, okay? Bring one for Maddie, too." By now, she was already pulling long strings of cobwebs and brushing the grit from my hair.

William returned only moments later. He tossed me a damp cloth, and then began to clean himself up.

During all this, Toby escaped towards the door, staring down at his watch and muttering impatiently. "Come on!" He called. "Or we'll be late."

As if backing up his claim, a taxi honked its horn outside our house.

There was no more time for washing up. I threw the cloth down, and ran after Toby and Eliza as we emerged out into the public.

One thing about the Lotterbox Law Firm is that its massive. It was ten-stories high, and its glass walls glittered luxuriously in the sunlight.

A lump formed in my throat. Instantly, I knew that Mr. Lotterbox would be appalled by mine and William's appearance; though we managed to cleanse ourselves of most of the cobwebs and dirt, we still didn't have time to shed our workbelts, and my hair was a frizzy mess.

The cab pulled up and halted near the pavement. Since all four of us were squeezed into it for about twenty minutes, it was a relief to escape.

Adults milled around us, most entering and exiting the firm. They all grunted with disgust (these gestures were mostly aimed at William and I) but resumed their daily business.

I felt so out of place, I wanted to sink into the shadows, fading into invisibility. But I couldn't. I had to hold my chin high, despite my ruffle appearance, and hurry on and ruin my agency's chance at gaining a new case.

Toby paused, gazing at William and I with a slight frown, but then adjusted his coat and gave us a smile. "Right. Let's go-and remember, keep your manners, please."

My first impression of Mr. John Lotterbox was a scornful, humorless, cold business man.

He was tall and lanky, but appeared to be as sturdy as a skeleton. His silver hair was combed carefully, the blue pinstripes running along his black suit providing a soothing contrast.

Mr. Lotterbox greeted us carefully and wearily, his icy-blue eyes narrowed as he viewed William and me. I could tell he was disappointed and slightly taken aback, but mostly he displayed flat annoyance.

I wanted to say, 'Well, sorry if me risking my life fighting off dangerous apparitions to better the lives and safety of the public is irritating, sir.' but of course, that would be verbal suicide.

Soon, we were all settled into a comfortable plush sofa. Mr. Lotterbox sat across from us, his hands folded in his lap, his expression one of skeptical contemplation.

Toby cleared his throat. "Mr. Lotterbox, I don't believe we've had proper introductions-"

Toby's words seemed to have drawn Mr. Lotterbox out of a deep sleep. He jerked awake, eyes gleaming, and nodded. His voice sounded sharp and steely. "Yes, yes, I know all of you already. You're Mr. Toby Gallenhood? Younger than I'd thought. Eliza Sorrem, William Stonegarden," He frowned at him and me, "And Ms. Madeline Frost...pleasure."

Toby hesitated. "Thank you. It's certainly an honor to us."

Mr. Lotterbox swept his gaze around us. The fluctuating pair of eyes swiveled around the four of us, finally focusing on the more distinctive pair. "Though I must say, the state of Ms. Frost and Mr. Stonegarden appears...concerning."

Our leader's eyes flashed with brief alarm, but he just smiled. "I apologize if we may appear ruffled, but my agents were alerted of our meeting on very sudden terms. We are all professional investigators, I assure you."

Mr. Lotterbox snorted. "That's one way of saying that those two are the rowdiest of you," He shifted his hands. "Of course, I would have naturally called one of the larger agencies, such as Fittes or Rotwell. But your agency snagged my attention...now I am beginning to regret it."

I spoke up. "Please, sir," I said through gritted teeth, "We are not unstable. Each of us are prominently skilled and expertly trained to eliminate psychic apparitions."

Mr. Lotterbox frowned at me, and for a few moments, there was nothing except lingering silence. "Very well. But I expect in the future that you will not distract yourself with more minor and irrelevant cases."

My jaw clenched. My hand subtly gripped the fabric of the sofa, and in a tight, careful voice I said, "Excuse me," I smiled weakly. "I think I need a breath of air. Please, don't be interrupted by my disappearance. Carry on."

Mr. John Lotterbox, as I suspected, did not protest. He looked relieved as I rose and walked across the shining marble tiles of Mr. Lotterbox's office, (which was stationed as the fourteenth floor) and then slipped into the dim hallway.

Just as I was about to leave, Toby's voice sounded from the office, calling to me. "Off to the roof?"

I nodded. "Yes. Just need a quick breath. I feel a bit...woozy." That, and our client's blatant and ignorant comments on our appearance had spited me more than enough times. But other than that, there was a strange buzzing in the back of my mind. The buzz grew with each step I took.

"Alright. Be careful."

Then the vision of my colleagues and Mr. Lotterbox seated in the office disappeared, replaced by a dark staircase.

After meeting

After informing us of the psychic paranormal activity circulating around the law firm's 'sinsiter' elevator, Toby spoke a few swift, chilly words and contributed a reassuring smile that landed us a new case.

We were scheduled to arrive at Mr. John Lotterbox's law firm the day after, and had to be there at 5 o'clock, sharp.

Squeezed into a speeding cab with three other people, I reflected on our unbelievable luck. "Why do you think Mr. Lotterbox chose us instead of Fittes or Rotwell?"

"I haven't a clue," Toby said. "But we cannot mess this up, or we might be sitting in a cell for the rest of our lives."

"You sure are cheery," William looked irritated. "Personally, I think that old geezer is being unreasonable. Destruction's apart of the job. He might has well have told us not to bring our rapiers or magnesium flares!"

Eliza nodded. "Yes, a very dim-witted request for such a supposedly genius lawyer."

Our cab driver, a large and hairy man, grunted and slid the clear sound barrier across to shut out our blubbering.

"Speaking of surprising events," Toby began, "What were you doing dangling off the law firm's roof, Madeline?"

Yes, what was I doing? It was a blur. One moment I had carefully escaped up to the roof to get some fresh air, the next I was clinging to that concrete for dear life.

"I don't really remember," I said. "But I'm alive now, and that's what's important, isn't it?"

"Of course," Toby said after moment's hesitation. By the look of him, he wanted more definite answers, but that was all I could give them at the moment.

Our impatient cab driver dropped us off on the sidewalk to lug ourselves over towards the narrow doorway.

We lived in a tall building, not stretching far in width. It was a beautiful house, nonetheless, with Victorian-styled paneling and a wrap-around porch.

There were four floors; the basement, the ground floor with the kitchen, a half-bath, and an office.

There was a spiraling staircase that led to a broad hallway, where all of our rooms were, and two full baths.

The final floor-the attic-provided a place for us to practice swordplay with our rapiers.

The Victorian house had become my home in the recent months.

I think this is a good time to properly explain who I am.

My name is Madeline Frost. I am just above 5'6, with sensibly short brown hair.

How I came to be apart of the Ivywood Lane Agency? My father is a pilot for a well-known airline company, Greenwood Airlines. My mother died when I was at the mere age of two years old, so my father raised me.

He was a kind man, but he was constantly absorbed in his job. I understood that. But I eventually had enough of his distantness and suddenly slipped away and joined this agency.

I still wasn't fully aware of my colleagues. What I could loosely gather about each of them wasn't much.

William Stonegarden, an averaged height boy, about one year older than me. He had regular brown hair, an amusing sense of humor, and as for his back story?

From what I deprived was that his father was a rich, important man, (though I am unsure of his identity) and he was seemingly cruel, so William ran away and somehow ended up here.

Eliza Sorrem, the only other girl on the team, was the same height and age as me, with dirty-blonde hair, has blue eyes, and a round, pretty face.

I knew she had an adult brother, but her parents were collectors of exotic artifacts, so it was a rarity that they were ever in London.

Then there was Toby Gallenhood. He was tall, had black hair, gray eyes, and had slim yet muscular features. He was charming around clients, but other than that, he was completely cold and detached. I knew nothing of his past or family. It was an intriguing mystery, and I often pondered if I'd ever solve it.

"I'll heat up some frozen lasagna, I suppose we're all hungry," William said brightly, giving an energetic skip from the sidewalk to the porch.

"Actually, I'm quite exhausted. I think I'll have a quick shower and then go to bed." I said as the door swung open.

"Not so fast," Eliza stopped me after shutting the door. "You still haven't told us how you ended up nearly dying."

I folded my arms; everyone's gaze was trained on me. "I went to get some air, and then I was suddenly dangling off a building."

"Madeline, if you're hiding anything-" Toby began to speak, but I cut him off impatiently.

"I'm not hiding anything!" I insisted. "If I knew, I'd tell you."

"Maybe you were in a trance," Eliza suggested. "I've heard of Visitors who can do things like that."

"Just stay off building rooves for a while, okay?" Toby said, suddenly looking as impatient as me.

"Okay." I didn't say anything else after that. I slid my rapier from my belt, and placed it in a large pot near the door before brushing past Toby (who was heading over towards the kitchen where William was passing out the lasagna) and then trudged upstairs.

Upstairs was dark and warm. A rush of contentment flowed through my heart. Throughout my childhood I had never stayed in one place for more than two years. But now, my home was here, in Ivywood Lane, London.

I walked past a row of doors, then stopped at the one beside mine. No, it wasn't my room. It was Toby's.

I never had more than a glimpse of his room. It seemed to almost be more of a secret than his past.

Except...I slowly crept a hand towards the black handle. It was more accessible. Perhaps it would hold answers about our distant leader's past.

Suddenly I heard the soft creaking of someone's feet against the floorboards, and made a frantic dart towards the bathroom door.

Toby emerged into the dim light, looking distracted. "Madeline," He greeted me. "Are you okay? After your adventure today?"

I felt a prick of irritation at the note in his voice; it was like a mother scolding her child for wondering off.

I clasped the cold door handle. "If you're thinking I'm stupid or something-"

"Of course not," Toby blinked, shifting his weight slightly as if he was uncomfortable. "But I still don't understand. You can tell me what it was-a Visitor? Something else?"

"I honestly don't know," I held back a sigh of frustration, my hand falling from the handle. "It was a blur. Like I blinked, and then suddenly I was dangling off the building."

Toby nodded slowly, looking like he had finally accepted my answer. "Alright. I'll be off to bed, then."

Just as he was about to slip into the room, I spoke. "Toby?"

He looked up. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for your help, on the roof. I would've died otherwise."

Toby smiled. "You're apart of the team, Maddie. I wouldn't have just left you to fall."

With that, he opened the door and slipped inside. The opening shut quietly a second later, not even offering the slightest suggestion of what lay inside.

I paused. He had called me Maddie. For the first three months of me being here, I'd strictly been Madeline to him. Maybe he was starting to trust me.

I knew it seemed like he trusted me now, but I knew he was still wary of everyone.


	2. Chapter 2 - Into the Dark

**Hi! I thought I'd better warn you about this chapter. Because I wrote a fair percentage of it on my phone, it's kind of...well, terrible and cringy. But whatever. Enjoy! :)**

CHAPTER 2

The fresh, crisp smell of something cooking in the kitchen roused me from my sleep the next morning.

I climbed out of my twin-sized bed, opened the door, and was groggily stumbling down the stairs in a matter of moments.

In the kitchen, William was happily skipping around (cooking is his domain. If he left, we would all probably starve) I pulled out a chair, still blinking.

"Not a morning person, are you, Maddie?" William said, swiftly grabbing a carton of eggs from the fridge.

"No, not really," I shook off my sleepiness. "What's for breakfast?"

"French toast," William smiled. "Seems that it's just you and me today, Mad."

I blinked. "Mad?" I echoed.

"Sorry," William said. "Too soon?"

"No, not really, I'm just not used to being called that. So why are we all alone today?"

"Well," William pulled out a frying pan and did things with the eggs. "Toby went out with Eliza on a case. Something about a tapping noise behind some public restrooms-sounds glamorous, doesn't it?" His smile flickered briefly. "We got a call from a Mrs. Hemsworth. She claims that she's being haunted by her dead husband. We're supposed to be over there in about...thirty minutes."

I jumped to my feet, all remaining tiredness vanishing. "What? Thirty minutes? I'm not even dressed!"

"Relax. It's not the most important case in the world."

I wasn't listening. I had raced away, swiftly climbing the stairs. I shut the door as I hurriedly pulled open a drawer, grabbing a pair of black leggings, a worn black skirt, and finally, a plain black shirt tattered with ectoplasm burns.

I slipped my clothes on quickly, already stumbling towards my armoire to pull out a light, black coat. After putting that on, I pulled on a final pair of black boots, ran out the room, and practically leaped down the stairs.

Thankfully, William was already dressed in a black clothes, with a ragged dark gray jacket. He held a plate of French toast sprinkled with powdered sugar.

"That was quick-still hungry?" He set the plate down on the table.

The abrupt, ungraceful rumbling of my stomach answered for me, and I grabbed a piece. "Thanks."

"No problem." William was already eating his share, looking as casual as someone who wasn't about to venture out and destroy a potentially harmful ghost.

"So," I said, finishing my toast, "What do you suppose this ghost is?"

"Well, I think it's a Type Two. It has a purpose, after all. Mrs. Hemsworth is an adult, of course, so she couldn't give a clear description of the ghost, except that he resembled her husband in shape. Probably a weak Phantasm or something."

"Do you think we'll need a duffel bag?"

"No, it doesn't sound particularly strong. Just sits in an old chair in the living room, bothers the wife a bit at night." He smiled reassuringly. "Compared to slinking around a public toilet, though, it sounds like the most exciting case of the year."

I grinned. Smiling felt good. I hadn't had the most joyous of times during these last few days. Not really bad, just unpleasant. Firstly, I had been left chasing away a bothersome Wraith near King's Road with Eliza. Second of all, I had endured Mr. Lotterbox's rude comments about how unprofessional I was. Third of all, of course, I nearly fell off a three-story building, and to my slight indignation, had been saved by Toby Gallenhood.

I was definitely grateful, but something about Toby made me want to make it clear that I wasn't a baby or a frightened little girl. I respected him as well, of course, he was team leader. I also felt a deep interest surrounding his past. He was hard to explain, Toby. Polite and charming around clients, distant around the rest of us, not offering the usual humorous commentary that Eliza and William often bore. I knew however, that he did care for us, but wasn't the best at expressing it. But overall, Toby Gallenhood was a mystery yet to be unraveled.

"We should get going," I said. "Being late isn't a favorable first impression with clients."

William put down the last slice of French toast. "You worry far too much, Maddie. We'll be fine. Mrs. Hemsworth will love us-we're coming to her rescue, after all."

William and I arrived at 42 Rosemary St. twenty minutes late due to William's antics.

We were standing in front of a narrow, rather dull, tall house with an odd pale orange color coated over its dreary walls, as if someone thought the unexpected splash of bright color would make the creaking house more lively.

We were greeted and ushered into a narrow hallway by a rather short, rounded woman with a gray face and a blank, weary look in her eyes. She had thin-framed spectacles drooping to the very edge of her small, button-like nose.

We greeted her politely, and she did the same. For a short while, Mrs. Hemsworth just regarded us silently, as if she didn't know how to react to our black clothes, shining rapiers, and the canisters of magnesium flares and salt bombs tucked away in the pouches of our hefty, jangling work belts.

I cleared my throat. "Mrs. Hemsworth, would you like to inform us of your situation?"

The old widow nodded reluctantly, tearing her gaze away from William's shining rapier. "Yes, yes," She said, tottering along the narrow hallway, and we followed, shuffling rather uncomfortably in the tight space before emerging into a drab kitchen.

Mrs. Hemsworth had pulled out a stout, silver kettle and placed it on the stove. "My husband of twenty-four years died last Saturday afternoon of a heart attack," The old woman did not seem emotionally ruffled when she mentioned his recent departure. "I'd never admit this to anyone of personal acquaintance, but we did not have a happy marriage. I am a barren woman with no children. We were simply partners."

William shifted. "Anything else about his spirit you could specify, please?"

Mrs. Hemsworth turned away from the kettle. "Each evening, at 5 o'clock, I am disturbed by a white haze- I am not young, I cannot decipher anything clearer-the shape stays at one spot usually, but several times it has wondered towards the staircase, as if trying to reach upstairs."

"Has it ever attempted to harm you?" I asked, keeping my voice business-like. Truthfully, I was growing rather impatient. I wasn't good at handling clients, or people in general. Ghosts were my thing. And that wasn't all; something about Mrs. Hemsworth made me uneasy. Not frightened-but the old woman had an air of subtle drab misery. It hung in the air like fog on an early morning.

Mrs. Hemsworth shook her head, pulled up her spectacles. "No."

William looked up from adjusting his work belt, giving the old widow a reassuring smile. "We'll get to work, then. You have nothing to worry about."

"I'm sure you'll handle it neatly," There was an edge to Mrs. Hemsworth's voice. She cleared her throat, pulling her pale gray cardigan closer. "I must go sort some matters upstairs."

We watched the old woman shuffle out of the kitchen and hobble up the stairs. I blew out my cheeks when she was gone to emphasize my relief.

"Sounds like a weak Type One now, doesn't it?" I said, slightly disappointed.

"Yes, it's starting to sound like that. I was sure it was a Type Two, but it doesn't seem to have a purpose," He ran a hand through a mop of unruly brown hair. "I'll set the chains around the room, then we can search for the Source."

I helped set up the chains. It didn't take long. The living room was quite small, just in front of the kitchen. A slim wooden cabinet was at the back of the room, with a box-like TV plopped down on top. Hugging the staircase was a short leather couch, and overlooking the small place was a grand, tall, curving maroon chair.

The chair radiated a psychic bleakness, and I guessed that's where the husband spent most of his time.

"Suppose the Source is the chair?" William said, tilting his head at the tiny living room.

I paused, letting my hand rest on the chair for a moment before snatching it away. I shook my head. "No, I don't think so."

William frowned, he was inspecting the line of old photos hung stiffly on the wall to the right of the staircase; many pictures of a solemn-faced couple stared at us.

William walked back over. "This is the most drab, depressing hovel I've ever set foot in."

I nodded, half-listening to his comments. I crouched down by the tall chair, my fingers prying a loose floorboard under the chair, peeling it back with a grunt of effort. I stared down; it was a gloomy hole, and a dusty gray envelope lay in its depths. I plucked it out instantly, and my fingers tingled at its touch. I was hit with a sudden wave of deep, clawing guilt, a shrinking fear, and then a feeling of helplessness.

"Found something?" William was at my side in a brief second.

I nodded, handed him the envelope. "Yes. Seems that Mr. Hemsworth was hiding something after all."

As it turns out, the envelope hid an old letter; a confession.

Apparently, Mr. Thomas Hemsworth had murdered four women in the 60's and had gotten away with it. His dragging guilt had pulled his spirit back into that bleak living room, searching to uncover his crime.

We immediately turned in the envelope to Scotland Yard, which promptly had it incinerated at the Fittes furnace for Sources. The ghost did not return again.

William and I were slightly disappointed by the boring nature of the case.

Toby, though, seemed satisfied with our efficiency, awarding me a word of praise when we arrived back home.

We were all sitting in the kitchen, double-checking our work belts and our hefty old duffel bags.

A heavy, nervous silence hung over us, like we were about to attend a funeral. Everyone knew if we messed this up, the Ivywood Lane Agency was over. We could quite possibly be sent to jail, or, more likely, years of community service if damage came to that businesslike law firm.

"So," William said. "How are we going to handle this?"

Toby looked up from picking through his iron chains. "Firstly, examine the elevator in daylight. Identify the ghost, then eradicate it."

The tone in his voice was confident. He made it seem as simple as making a pot of tea.

"Let's just not try to make our tea with the Source," Eliza said flatly, running some sort of anti-plasm wipe down her rapier.

William looked up indignantly. "That kettle looked perfectly fine to everyone. How did I know someone hit that women over the head with it?"

I smile crept on my lips. My colleagues chattering lifted my dragging spirits. "The tea was surprisingly nice, wasn't it?"

Before anyone could add on to the conversation, a loud honk sounded outside.

Toby stood up. "That's the cab I called earlier."

We all followed him out the door, hurried down the pavement, and then climbed into the back of the cab.

"Eliza, you're kneeing me in the stomach!" I scooted away, elbowing William in the process. "Oh, sorry."

"It's about time we get a roomy car or something," Eliza said. "William and Toby are old enough to drive, aren't they?"

That would be a useful investment.

"Oh, the cab rides aren't that bad. Besides, I'd just run us into a tree." William pulled his rapier away from stabbing my hip as he spoke.

"Actually," said Toby, "That's not a terrible idea, Eliza. You never know-our agency could grow larger in the future."

The thought of yet another agent made me shift. I liked the way it was now.

I had just began to grow content in our tall Victorian house, enjoying the company of my companions. I thought that we were efficient enough with four agents.

"So," I glanced at Eliza and Toby, who were sitting across from me. "How did your little case go?"

Toby shrugged. "Just a regular Glimmer, got rid of it with a little iron and salt. How did yours go? Something about a widow being haunted, was it?"

William nodded. "We didn't even get to see the thing, Maddie located the Source in a matter of moments and it was over. The husband killed a few women in the 60's and wanted to reveal the crime, I suppose."

The cab made a sudden serve to the left, causing me to slam into William, and getting jabbed by Eliza's shoulder.

"Jeez, Eliza! Why do you bother carrying a rapier around when you could just demolish ghosts with those shoulders?" I shifted, holding my hand at my stomach.

"It's not my fault. The traffic at this hour is complete turmoil." Eliza frowned.

It was true. Around this hour, every adult would be hurrying to the safety of their homes, and at the same time, their children would be slinking along the pavements on their way to tend to worrisome property owners.

We were despised by many in the daylight, and heroes when night fell. It was a funny thing.

Finally, the cab halted by a broad pavement, nearly as wide as the road. It traveled under a large awning to grand glass doors. The building itself was huge, and I knew we would have to split up to make our observations because the elevator went from the first floor to the tenth.

Toby paid off our cab driver, and we shuffled out of the car, hauling two large duffel bags.

I stood in front of the firm next to Eliza, feeling very daunted. Toby, on the other hand, looked completely at ease and began to approach the doors.

We followed, and were immediately greeted by a tall woman with dark brown hair, wearing a tight gray businesslike skirt, a frilly white shirt and a matching gray blazer. In her hand she held a black briefcase.

The woman stopped, staring at us. "Are you the agents that were supposed to be here today?" She asked.

Toby gave a polite nod. "Yes, we are. Ivywood Lane Agency. I'm Toby Gallenhood, pleased to meet you."

The woman hesitated, then reached out to shake his hand. "Sandra Crossford. I heard that there were going to be agents inspecting the place, but I assumed it would be a professional lot like Fittes or Rotwell."

Toby's smile did not waver. "Oh, they're just quantity. We're quality, I assure you."

Sandra Crossford looked doubtful, but she bade us a quick, brief goodbye then hurried away to a sleek black car parked nearby.

Toby didn't hesitate. He swung open one of the wide glass doors and walked inside.

The first floor smelled clear and fresh, and our ectoplasm-stained boots made a loud sound on the shining marble floor that echoed throughout the large room.

"Right," Toby turned to us. "For the first hour while it's still daylight, we'll set up an iron circle on each floor and look and inspect areas and whatnot. Then we all meet back down here to discuss what exactly to do-got it?"

We all nodded.

"Good. Eliza, you get the first floor. Maddie, you'll be on the second floor with me. William, you get the top floor. Eliza and Madeline and I can check every floor in between. Once every floor's checked for any psychic phenomenon, we meet back at the first floor."

We all muttered our understanding. I paused for a moment, searching the building in silence. Not physically searching, but psychically.

My main Talents were Listening and Touch. My Sight wasn't bad, just not excellent. William's Sight was the best, but his other Talents were poor in comparison. Eliza was good at both Listening and Touch, and Toby was fairly good at all three.

My gaze drifted towards the elevator. A line of yellow tape was plastered on the front of it, along with a sign telling people to take the stairs.

To the left of the restrooms was a tall door, and behind that, several flights of dark and gloomy stairs for us to travel up.

William gave me an exhausted look. "Can't you get the top floor, Toby? You're more fit, I'm practically a dying sloth."

Toby dismissed the request briefly, then we all moved reluctantly towards the stairs.

William swung open the door with great comical flourish, then slipped inside and began to march up.

I followed behind Toby, giving Eliza last glance before entering.

Luckily, Toby was the one carrying our duffel bag, but my heavy work belt weighed down my hips, making it an effort just to put one leg in front of the other. I was breathing quite heavily, but Toby was swift and quiet as a mouse.

"Here we are," Toby said. The stairs stopped, pausing by a small square-shaped platform where another door stood. "That wasn't terrible, was it?"

I could still hear the sound of William's feet against the metal above our heads. "We only had to get to the second floor. William will practically be dead by the time he reaches the top."

"I'm sure he'll manage." Toby stared at our surroundings as we emerged onto the second floor.

It was filled with glass-walled offices, and to our right was a fancy snack bar, bearing coffee and other things. The room radiated a strange, ordinary daily businesslike feeling. To think, instead of hunting ghosts all day, these people sat in offices doing dull things like paperwork and drinking coffee.

"Sense anything?" I asked him after a few moments of reflection.

Toby frowned, turned, and dropped the duffel bag. A moment later he pulled a crowbar out. "No, but we can hardly do anything with the elevator shut."

I stared, open-mouthed, and Toby wedged the curved end of the crowbar and pulled back. After a few moments, the doors made a creaking sound and slowly, forcefully, it opened. Toby let the crowbar fall loudly to the floor.

I began to pull out some chains from the bag, and made a fairly-sized circle with them, a safe feet away from the supposedly haunted elevator.

The elevator imitated a bright, white light, looking completely normal and nonthreatening. The scene made me wonder why we were even here, camped out in the law firm.

Toby was frowning when I turned around from laying down the chains.

"What is it?" I stared at him, then at the elevator.

He turned to me. "Lotterbox didn't call us down here for nothing, Maddie. Someone definitely died here."

Toby and I stared at the elevator which suddenly appeared far more sinister. Someone had died there.

My hand automatically slid down towards my rapier, and I glanced at Toby. "The ghost only appears when you're inside the elevator, doesn't it?"

Toby nodded. "Yes. Two of us will have to make a iron circle inside and throw a salt bomb at it..." He trailed away, a frown flickering across his face.

"What is it?"

Toby ran a hand through his dark hair. "I think the Source is underneath the elevator, Maddie."

"Then how are we going to seal it?" I felt utterly perplexed. If the spirit had died before the law firm was built, then Mr. Lotterbox would have to tear apart a great deal of it to disclose the haunting.

"I haven't a clue."

"What if we research a bit around this area? That could help." I said.

"Perhaps. I'll pack up the chains, we don't really need that circle anymore." He was already efficiently grabbing the chains and rolling them into a neat, gray circle before throwing them into the tattered duffel bag.

The next few hours were an exhausting blur. Toby and I investigated floor three, four, five, and six. William searched four and reported nothing out of place. Eliza assisted William in searching one of them, and after that monitored four floors of her own.

By the time we were finally finished, after hours of carefully monitoring the temperature and feeling the uncomfortable prickling of malice creeping up my skin, I felt as if all my energy had been drained away into weariness.

I let out a sharp breath as Toby and I emerged down into the first floor where Eliza was sitting, reading a magazine from the circular desk across the room. She looked up, uncrossed her legs, and jumped up to meet us. "Did you find anything?" Eliza asked. "This entire time, I've sensed nothing."

"Actually, there's a death glow in the elevator. Someone definitely perished there. Madeline and I think the Source is beneath the elevator." Toby said, his voice simple and matter-of-fact, as always.

Eliza sighed. "Lotterbox won't be happy about that."

"I think that we could find the Source by ourselves. If we do, we'll get paid at least." I put in.

"We'd have to demolish the elevator, and then dig around the entire area to look for the ghost's Source," Toby pointed out.

"We don't know that. There could be anything under here. Maybe if we made an iron circle in the elevator and somehow go down?" I suggested.

Toby shook his head, his voice stern. "No. That's your answer. It's far too dangerous.

"He spoke so decisively and certainly, as if he hadn't even thought about it for a moment. This annoyed me. "That's what being an agent is all about! Doing dangerous things. And don't we need this case?"

Something glimmered in Toby's eyes, and we glared at each other. "I'm team leader, Madeline, don't forget that."

"I'm not forgetting anything," I said hotly. "I'm just prepared to take necessary risks."

"This isn't a necessary risk! It would kill us stone-dead the moment we walk in." Toby said.

I stiffened, returned his glare with a look of defiance. I put my hands on my hips. "We won't get anything done if we just slink around like mice!"

Toby threw his hands in the air as a gesture of frustration. "Why do you always insist on starting an argument? I'm team leader, and I won't send anyone down there!"

Suddenly the sound of feet stomping loudly against metal echoed into the large room, and William stumbled from the stairway door. He paused, taking a moment to steady his breathing. "Hey, guys. Sorry I was a bit late," William approached us, his smile melting away when he noticed the tension pickling the air. "What's the matter?"

Eliza glanced at him. "Toby and Maddie are fighting."

William looked surprised." Really? Fighting?"

I didn't respond. My mind was shimmering with anger. Toby never paid your input any consideration all. He expected us to firmly follow his every word without question, to be honest colleagues when we knew nothing about him in return.

Suddenly a strong gust of wind whistled past, it's strength blowing open the grand glass doors. Slowly, they stopped swinging to and fro, and settled once more.

But only for a few seconds.

Barely a heartbeat later, another gust of wind blew past, so strong that I stumbled on my feet. My blood ran cold. The lights of the building flickered. An icy feeling crept up behind me. My hand slid towards my rapier.

"Oh, no... See what you two have done?" Eliza cried as the long wooden bench she had been sitting on was thrown across the room

I didn't have time to react. The wind was buffering stronger. The lights flickered again once, then went out completely. I was blown across the marble floor, desperately trying to hold my ground.

The large, curved marble-topped desk near the doors made a loud creaking sound. Slowly, it began to slide away from it's original standing point. I didn't see it in time. I was desperately trying to pull out some iron chains from a large pouch from my work belt as the heavy piece of wood and marble was blown across the floor, knocking the breath out of me with it's impact.

At the same time, a loud screech sounded from above, followed by a more subtle wheeze. Then a ding.

I managed to throw a glance behind me. The elevator had returned to the first floor by itself. The bright white light it once harbored had turned a blood red. The doors had slid open silently.

The desk continued to slide across the room. I did my best to try and scramble away, but again, it was too late. I was slammed into the elevator. While being thrown into the sinister contraption, I caught a glance of Toby reaching to pull me out of the desk's impact, but his attempt caused him to be thrown into the elevator as well. I heard the sound of William frantically calling our names, and the briefest image of him trying to scramble to our aid. But the elevator doors had shut, and we were sent dropping down.

`You know that subtle ringing sound you sometimes hear that breaks the seemingly silent air?

That noise filled my ears. For a few moments, I was confused about where I was. I felt numb, like I was in a dream. That feeling lasted a mere second before I realized.

My heart began to race. Pain was clenching my whole body. I was bleeding from a blow on the side of my head. A long cut sliced across my right arm. I groaned. My voice sounded odd and cracked.

It was almost completely dark here. I was alone. Helpless. Then the previous image flashed into my mind once again; Toby roughly blown into the elevator with me.

I sat up. A bolt of pain was sent running through my leg, but I managed to crawl across from where I had awoken.

Toby lay against the wall, his black hair sticky with blood. A part of his jeans were torn and bleeding. My heart dropped. This was because of me.

"Toby?" My voice sounded frail and shaky with fear. Why did I have to start a fight? I had stirred a Poltergeist. Who knows what happened to my companions above? And now Toby was injured.

Toby didn't rouse. I shook him fiercely this time, more fear fearful that he was dead. This time, his eyes shot open. His face twisted in an expression of pain. "Maddie? What happened?"

"A Poltergeist happened," I muttered. "My anger... I guess that's what killed the woman earlier."

"I'm so stupid!" Toby grunted with effort and sat up against the wall a bit straighter. "You're my responsibility, Mad. Now I've endangered all of you."

"Shut up," I said scornfully. "Don't act like it's all your fault. I started the bloody argument."

Toby didn't say anything for a while. Then, finally, he spoke. "Are we just going to sit here? Why has the Poltergeist suddenly left us alone?"

I glanced across the floor in the dark light. A curled ball of heavy iron chains lay scattered nearby; they must have fallen out of my work belt. Toby spotted the chains. Toby suddenly, slowly, rose to his feet. A duffel bag was hidden in the shadows in the corner of the elevator. After a moment of riffling through the bag, then pulled out a crowbar. I got to my feet as well. Just siting on the floor didn't seem very helpful.

"What are you doing?"

"I really have been quite stupid," Toby said. "I've only just remembered. You were right, Maddie. We should have researched the place first."

A frown flickered across my face. "What?"

"Before this law firm was built, this plot of land was an old church, around the 18th century. One day, a foreigner came to town and burnt the thing down. Two people perished in the fire."

"Two? Do you mean there's two different ghosts haunting this place?" I asked, my head pounding. The wound I received had started to bleed again.

Toby noticed this, and put down the crowbar. "That doesn't matter. We have to get you fixed up," He murmured, tilting his head to study the blow.

"I'm fine," I insisted. "But what did you mean by that church?"

Toby hesitated, looking like he wanted to object. "The old church itself was built on top of a coal mine. I bet the elevator was instructed right on top of it."

I nodded. I pushed back the pounding in my head to focus on the psychic energy that clouded all around me. I'd been too shaky to notice it earlier. The ground tingled below my feet. "I think you're right," I said. "I can feel it."

Toby nodded and picked up the crowbar again. "You're the best at Touch and Listening, Mad. Is there any spot where the psychic energy's more intense?"

I slowly, carefully, walked across the dimly lit elevator, my hand instinctively sliding towards my rapier as I did so. Yet the buzzing sound remained level throughout each step I took.

"I can't sense anything different," I said. "How do we know if there's anything beneath us at all? I don't think Lotterbox would like it if we destroyed a piece of his precious property."

"Oh, I'm sure he won't mind. That is, if I'm right and we can actually destroy the Source."

"And if we don't?"

"Then yeah, he'll be pretty mad."

I rolled my eyes, which was a dumb thing to do since it somehow inflicted another thunder of pain in my head. I said nothing. If I continued to complain about my ragged state, Toby would try to get me out of there as soon as possible.

That's how Toby Gallenhood operated. Sort of a brotherly figure to all of us, in some aspects. He was ultimately cold and distant, rarely offering a conversation that did not relate to some sort of haunting or apparition. But as I said earlier, he did care about the agents living under his roof, the people that obeyed and trusted him. I often wondered why he'd bother with us, though. He wasn't the type of person to desire companionship, and he scarcely interacted with anyone who didn't recognize him as someone to listen to; someone with authority. Which made me wonder why he hadn't hit me over the head with a crowbar yet.

I, unlike Eliza and William, sometimes opposed Toby (as I have displayed earlier) and was willing to question his past. I'm a curious, dry, and tough young girl, as I've been told. My personality definitely clashed with Toby's, him being the kind of young man to like everything to be under his thumb, for there to be seldom any questions about him, he liked to get his way. I suppose we both represented what the other did not like. I knew that he hated my tendency to start an argument, and I hated his gullible expectancy of us; so, why would he tolerate me? I suppose he has more self-control than I do.

And that basically sums up our relationship; like a child playing with matches. There was constantly the threat of a destructive fire.

"Right," Toby said, "Stand back, Maddie."

I obeyed that command at least, and backed away to press against the opposite wall of the elevator. A loud banging sound indicated that Toby was now fiercely attacking the steel-like walls around us, causing an ugly dent in their sleek exterior.

While he was doing this, the lights flickered. Blackness flashed across my vision. The buzzing noise got louder, as if enraged.

"The ghosts are mad, Toby," I said. "They know we're looking for their Source."

Toby gave a grunt before swinging again. "Good," He said, "That means we're close."

His optimism would be assuring to anyone else. Toby always expected cases to go smoothly, and was confident that we would apprehend the dangerous Visitors without error. That, of course, was a rather dumb belief. But I wasn't in the state to start an argument again. After all, it was because of me that we were stuck down here.

Finally, Toby gave the elevator's wall a final swing with the crowbar. I peered closer, expecting to see some sort of building material, or iron frames or something like that.

Instead, in front of Toby was a small, gaping black hole that yawned in front of us; it felt as if we were in an infinite trap, sealed away from the rest of the world, and that was the tiniest window that teased us of what was outside.

"What is that?" I crept forward, still slow and cautious, but my curiosity urged me onward.

Toby was already attempting to get a glimpse of the hole. A piece of gleaming steel was still wedged in the gap from where the wall had finally crumbled. "Looks like a mine entrance. Quite messy, lots of wreckage. Wooden beams, stuff like that. I suppose some of that's from the church."

Excitement wormed it's way past the searing pain that had taken over my body. "What are we waiting for, then?"

Toby hesitated, then stepped away from the gap, brushing off some dust from his coat and jeans. "It would be irresponsible of me to just go lumbering in there without proper back-up. We need four agents for this, and you clearly need some patching up."

"I told you, I'm fine." I knew there was no real arguing with that, he was right. I wasn't going to admit it, but if we were going to seek out the Source and destroy it, I'd have to be well-prepared and unshaken.

"No, you're not—no, don't argue. I'll call up the others to get some help."

Several hours later, I was laying on the battered remains of a long chair that was scattered across the law firm's lobby.

Eliza sat beside me, silently reflecting on the recent events that occurred.

My wounds had been taken care of; Eliza always brought a first-aid kit along with our cases, and tonight, it paid off.

The stinging pain that swept over my body was beginning to ease, slowly and subtly.

William and Toby were speaking to each other a across the room, carefully deciding how we would continue.

"So," said Eliza, "You woke a Poltergeist."

I nodded, and then glanced at the broad circle of iron chains around us. It wasn't completely necessary, since Poltergeists only fed off negative emotions, and we all seemed fairly calm now, but William and Toby wanted to be safe.

"Don't look at me like that," I said abruptly (Eliza was giving me a sour, disapproving look). "I didn't mean to do it. If I'd known this place was also haunted by the Poltergeist, I would have kept my mouth shut."

"That doesn't matter," Eliza's gaze was hard and flinty. "You know on all cases, an agent must remain calm and refrained—exactly what you weren't. Why would you even pick a fight with Toby over nothing?" She didn't wait for my reply. I knew under her anger, Eliza was just relieved that we had emerged from that pit alive. That's the way she was. She'd give you a thorough, stern lecture and harsh words, but only because she was worried. "That was a danger to everyone, Maddie."

"I know," I didn't look at her. "I'm sorry. It was dumb. I was just annoyed! Toby didn't even consider what I said." A flash of stubbornness overtook me at the end of my statement.

"Oh, calm it. He's just trying to make sure we get out of each case alive," Eliza glanced across at the boys; they were talking across the lobby, out of ear-shot. "I really don't understand why you give him such a hard time."

"Me?" I let my indignation pour into my voice. "He can be very annoying. He expects us to be good little children who don't question him—and if anything's not his idea, he doesn't bother to listen." Even as I spoke, I felt guilty. Who was I to complain? Toby tried to save me when I was being thrown into that godforsaken elevator, and only a day before saved me when I was hanging, wind-battered off a building.

Eliza gave me a disbelieving look. "Mhm, if you say so."

"What?"

"Nothing."

I frowned, but I just crossed my arms, much to my muscles' protests, and stared ahead at the wall. I really did mess up…I'll have to apologize to Toby later.

Truthfully, I didn't know why I snapped and argued with him so much. Yes, in life-threatening situations such as earlier, I tend to forget my frustration in order not to get killed, but it's hard to explain. I didn't want to bow down to him, but it was hard resenting him (if resenting is the right word) when he constantly saves my life.

Finally, Toby and William broke off their discussion and walked over towards us.

Despite being dropped fifteen feet by a haunted elevator, Toby looked calm and in control. He had several bandages oozing with gooey medicine, and cuts across his jaw, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Right," He said, "Madeline, are you fit to go down there?"

"Yes," I said simply.

Toby hesitated, then nodded. "Good. Just remember to stick in pairs, no matter what. I don't want us to get scattered down there."

I glanced back at the elevator; it's doors were wide open, exposing a dark, vast pit. The rope-like material that suspended the elevator gleamed faintly in the blackness. A rope coil had been thrown down it after Toby savaged the elevator roof with the crowbar, allowing us to escape.

William gave an eager, bright smile. "Let's get to it, then."

Climbing back down into that haunted contraption was not pleasant, to say the least.

My weak-gripping hands often trembled with my weight as I tried to carefully lower myself down there on the rope. I landed on top of the elevator with an echoing thud.

Eliza had nailed the coil of rope down to the lobby's floor so she could join us in the darkness.

Toby went in first, his rapier flashing amongst the scarily black pit that we stood in.

"It's fine, Madeline and I scattered some iron chains down here when we were thrown inside. Come on!" Toby called up.

I was the last to slip in. Truthfully, I was probably lying when I said that I was well enough to continue hunting for the Source with my comrades, but I most certainly did not want to be left alone in the battered lobby.

I jumped down after William, the supplies in my work belt jangling loudly as I did so.

"So, you just whacked the elevator with a crowbar, did you?" William frowned as he inspected the small gap in front of us.

"Well, the crowbar went through some concrete that protected the elevator from whatever is inside the mine," Toby replied. "So whoever built this thing wasn't completely dumb."

"I say they were. I don't see a single trace of iron anywhere in here. And Lotterbox said this place wasn't the site of a traumatic event." I said dubiously.

Toby gave a shrug. "At least we found it—William, it's your turn whacking the wall with the crowbar."

"What? No, I got us out of that haunted storm shelter at that old man's farm," William argued. "It's definitely Eliza's turn."

"I'm not strong enough to break through concrete," Eliza retorted. "Get to it or I'll hit you over the head with the bloody bar."

Providing no further argument, William grunted and picked up the crowbar, then began swinging.

My ears rang with the sudden noise as metal clashed furiously against metal. The sound bounced across the walls, pouring into my ears until I thought they'd start bleeding again.

Clenching my fists, I grabbed a packet of gum from my work belt and began to chew. Next time we had to venture into a haunted elevator and knock down walls to find a long-since abandoned mine, I'd bring earplugs.

Finally, the concrete crumbled and fell away with a distant rumbling sound. We edged closer, our eyes narrowed as we tried to pick out what was in the darkness.

"That's it," Toby said. "That's the old mine underneath the church that was burned."

"What?" William and Eliza looked at Toby in confusion.

"Oh, right, I didn't tell you," Toby said, still staring out of the man-sized hole William had made. "Around the 1930s, some random stranger came to town and burnt down an old church that was built on top of an old coal mine. Two people perished in the fire; a priest, I think, and a young man."

"How do you know this?" Eliza demanded. "This is useful information, Toby! Why didn't you tell us earlier?"

"I didn't really remember until now. Anyway, remember a few days ago when we were at the Archives, Eliza? Researching that old Wittlehem's ghost that was haunting her attic? I read something about it there." Toby said this while adjusting his work belt, his tone brief and casual.

"That's it," Eliza said. "From now on, we research each case we take, okay?"

I gave a nod. "Agreed."

The others murmured their consent, and after a few moments of brief silence, Toby jumped down into the blackness.

 **Woah, that one was a bit long for me. Don't forget to review-constructive criticism and suggestions are very welcome. I'd love to improve the story!**


	3. Chapter 3 - Vanquished

**Hi! This chapter's a tad bit short (by my standards, I like to write mini-novel chapters most of the time) and has some gore in it. So, if you don't like bloody descriptions of limping ghouls, avert your eyes. :)**

CHAPTER 3

When you're an agent, there's one crucial rule you must always follow; do not fear the dark.

I immediately broke this rule the moment I slid down from the elevator and landed on a pebbly patch of ground below. I couldn't see anything except the silver flash of my colleagues' rapiers.

I knew two people had died somewhere around here, and that they were now powerful spirits that wreak havoc on the famous establishment known as the Lotterbox Law Firm.

Being a sensitive type of agent, (one who's main Talent is Touch or Listening) the overall echo of the event affected me more intensely. I could tell Eliza was feeling the same way, because her hands were trembling and fiercely gripping her sword.

"Something terrible happened here, alright," said William. "Even I can feel it—and I'm useless at Listening and Touch."

That was true; William's main Talent was Sight.

"I don't see how anyone can't feel this," Eliza murmured uneasily as we began to move towards a gaping tunnel entrance; the darkness yawned ahead of us like we were being swallowed by a monster. "The malaise is so...powerful." She gave a shiver.

I wasn't listening to them. I had shut my eyes as we began walking along the rocky tunnel, my hand running against the stone walls.

The emotions I felt came in short bursts, strong, then faded into weariness before rising up again. I felt a great terror at first, one that nearly paralyzed me. Then I felt an overwhelming anger and sense of betrayal, it was so strong that I wanted to scream at the people around me in fury.

Accompanying these fierce emotions I heard a faint whispering that made my ears tingle with dread.

 _How could you?_ The voice shrieked quietly. I knew the voice was infuriated, but it sounded far away. _I will have my revenge on you, brother! I will have my revenge!_

"Mad?" William had noticed that I stopped. He walked over, and then pried my gripping hands from a piece of jutting stone. "Maddie, we all know what happened here. You shouldn't trouble yourself by feeling it."

I looked up, breathing heavily from the rush of emotions that swept over my mind. "No, I needed to do that. This wasn't just arson. It was intended murder. Committed by the ghost's brother."

The others stared at me in astonishment. Pale green light highlighted the surprised etched into their faces by a flickering lantern that Toby held.

"You got all that by running your hand down these walls?" Toby asked at last, staring at me as if in doubt.

I folded my arms. "I'm not lying. The anger of the ghosts keep the echo strong. Eliza could feel it too if she wants."

"No thanks, I believe you," Eliza gave another shudder.

"Yes, Maddie wouldn't lie." William said defensively, then added, "But since that's the case, the ghosts must be awfully strong."

"But what I don't understand," said Eliza, "Is why the ghosts would suddenly be more active now?"

"I don't know. Maybe the some iron was removed from this area recently. That doesn't matter though, does it? We just have to find the ghosts and destroy them." There it was, that casual, easy simplicity in Toby's voice. He was always so confident on each case we took that it would end neatly, despite the fact that nearly none of our cases do.

From then on, I walked in silence, still recovering from the psychic echo that I felt. Yet the feeling did not leave; yes, it was a bit quieter now, but in a sinister way. I felt as if something was creeping up behind me, and no matter how many times I glanced back and saw nothing but utter blackness, the feeling remained.

The tunnel seemed to go on forever. It was like being tortured, running from an invisible enemy in an endless nothingness. I felt like a mouse being chased by an unseen cat in that passageway.

"Does anyone else feel like we're being followed?" I said at last, unable to keep my fears silent.

"Yes," Eliza breathed. "I keep feeling as if something will leap out and grab me from behind."

"I'm getting that, too," William said. "Suppose we are being followed—" He never got to finish that sentence.

A terrible screech sounded from somewhere, echoing and bouncing off the tunnel walls, filling my ears. My blood ran cold, and my hands started to shake. But I quickly whipped around and pulled out my rapier. The others had done this too.

Behind us was a terrible, nightmare-inducing creature, one that stayed hidden in the shadows of my mind for many months. It looked unnatural, as if it didn't belong on earth. It's neck was twisted at an angle, it's left arm had been torn off, and where the common features of a face should have been was only tearing red skin, some parts hanging by a thread. I could see it's flesh behind it's skin. Blood dripped down from where the creature's arm should have been.

"Get back!" Toby yelled all of a sudden. Despite nearly being paralyzed by fear, I stumbled backwards, my breath coming in short gasps of terror.

The creature reached out for Toby, limping slowly. But Toby wrenched a canister of Greek Fire from his belt and lobbed it at the Raw-bones. The hideous image of what I assumed used to be human erupted into licking green fire that swept across the tunnel walls like an ocean wave.

When I dared to peer closer the fire had begun to die away into a crackling patch of green mist, and I could see that the Raw-bones had gone.

"That thing was following us," I breathed. "And we didn't even know it."

"That doesn't matter," said Toby. "It's gone now. We can look for its Source."

I knew that I did not want to go on in that tunnel. What if another horrifying creature was already slinking from the darkness to follow us? What if the Raw-bones returned sooner than we expected?

"Was that the thing that killed Fiona Allingwell?" I asked.

"Could be," William blinked, as if drinking in what just occurred. He cleared his throat, and then did something with his work belt. "Poor Fiona. Must have been bloody terrified."

"She couldn't see the Raw-bones." I pointed out.

The others didn't say anything else about the creature, and we went on. I kept looking back about five times each minute, but I knew the ghost wouldn't return for at least until tomorrow. That didn't make wondering through an abandoned coal mine any more delightful, though.

"Hold on a second," Toby had stopped, and crouched down by what seemed to be a blackened, charred wooden beam. Something long and skinny was poking out of it. He put his hands on the burnt wooden beam, only for it to crumble away into ash. Tugging his gloves a bit tighter over his hands, he swept away the ash to reveal another charred object; a skeleton. "Looks like we've found it."

I stared down at the thing. "Is it the Source of the Poltergeist or the Raw-bones?"

"Don't know," said Toby. "But you know DEPRAC will just fill this old mine with iron and salt once we leave. It'll be well taken care of—and, Poltergeists are only active when it comes to negative emotions."

"So let's just think happy thoughts." William said, pulling out some iron fillings from his work belt to throw on the corpse. He got some lavender and silver changes to put on it as well.

After taking care of the Source, we turned and began to walk back the way we came.

I sat at the table inside our tall, narrow Victorian house a day after the Lotterbox Case, reflecting on the horrifying creature we all witnessed.

Toby had been right. As soon as we left, we rang up DEPRAC, informing them about the dangerous Source that would need covering up. Just as we were leaving, I caught a glimpse of several DEPRAC vans and a few Rotwell agents approaching the firm.

And after that, the back-story of that haunting had been revealed, along with why the ghosts were suddenly more active.

It happened in 1935, when the church was burnt down. Two people were killed in the fire; a Father Simon, and a Mr. James Lotterbox. The man who burned the church was targeting his brother, James. His name was Michael Lotterbox. Why he murdered his brother? I don't know. But the man who committed the murder was the current Mr. Lotterbox's father.

The law firm was built only one year ago, (and this, despite what Lotterbox claimed, is when the killings of the living started to occur) I suppose that since Lotterbox was the son of the man who murdered those spirits, it caused them to become active and seek revenge.

Mr. Lotterbox is currently under charges of failure to disclose a dangerous haunting in appropriate time, but I'm sure he'll find a good lawyer to get him out of that.

Despite the fact that our discoveries had led to the threat of Mr. Lotterbox going to jail, we received our pay, only because it's a legal obligation.

William was sitting across the table from me, quietly reading a newspaper. We were mentioned on the second page of the _Times_ , since we had rendered the Source of a dangerous haunting that was associated with one of the most powerful men in London. The article featured a brief interview with Toby Gallenhood's commentary about the haunting, but it was short (Toby doesn't like to be the target of attention) and the rest of the Ivywood Lane Agency got a fair mention as well.

"So," said William, setting down the paper, "I suppose we'll be getting plenty of new cases now. That's good."

"Really?" I dropped my spoon into my bowl of cereal. "Our investigate _did_ lead to Lotterbox having trouble with the police. He could get 10 years in prison for that."

"Well, yes," William agreed, "Which makes me wonder why he had us investigate at all. Surely the old man knew that it would lead to DEPRAC finding out he was letting people get murdered for a whole year?"

Yes, a whole year, with fifteen disappearances. Mr. Lotterbox knew of this, of course.

"Maybe he didn't think we would survive?" I mused. "Or maybe he didn't think that it'd lead to him."

William picked up a biscuit tentatively, as if to eat it, then put it back onto the plate. "Doesn't matter. What does matter is that we get publicity and our pay, DEPRAC gets to disclose the coal mine and the law firm's a safe place again. Everyone wins...except Mr. Lotterbox, of course."

For a while after that, we just sat in silence. I ate my cereal, William ate a biscuit and continued to scan the paper with a gleam of approval.

"Do we have any more cases for today?" I asked, the bowl in my hands as I set it down in the sink.

William was finally done with the _Times_. "No, actually. Looks like we've got the whole day free."

That was a pleasant rarity; we were always out fighting ghosts, usually in pairs or alone. I never got the whole day free it seemed.

"Really?" I turned and leaned against the counter. I thought that would be a good thing, and yet I found myself wondering what to do.

"Yes. I'm going out to see a new film I've been dying to see. I think Eliza's writing or something, and Toby's up in his room doing who knows what," William smiled briefly, then looked down at his watch. "Oh, great. I'm going to be late to that film." He stood up, brushed some crumbs of his shirt, grabbed his coat which was hanging on his chair, and brushed past me. "Bye, Mad."

And with that, he was gone, and I was alone in the kitchen.

I stared at the clock that was hanging above the refrigerator, my fingers tapping against the counter top. I certainly wasn't going to waste my free day wondering what to do on a free day.

So, I walked out of the kitchen, past the living space, grabbed my black coat off a hanger in the hall, and stepped outside.

 **Well, that's the end of the chapter. Feel free to leave a review! Constructive criticism and suggestions are very welcome. :)**


	4. Chapter 4 - Distrust

**I'm putting up three chapters today, because, well, I need to speed-up the story. Suggestions & (constructive) criticism welcome! :) **

**CHAPTER 4**

Okay, I didn't exactly know where I was going or what I was doing when I stepped out into the gray, wind-battered street. I just didn't want to sit in the house all day and do nothing.

It was a dull noon, and it's atmosphere made me wonder why it wasn't raining when it seemed so appropriate.

Across the street, several other tall, slim and narrow Victorian-style houses stood, with a few young children playing in the front yards while the adults looked on proudly.

It felt very odd being outside, exposed to what was a normal day for the rest of the public. Children played ball, adults sat out and basked in the sun, pushing back the nightly chaos of the world.

This made me feel self-conscience. I was wearing my normal dark gray leggings with black stripes and a black shirt and black coat. There was an odd light feeling around my hips where my work belt and rapier should be hanging. I probably looked like I was heading to a funeral, and my clothes were a clear sign that I was an agent.

Everyone else knew this as well. As I walked down the pavement, I got a few disgusted stares, and a few goggling looks from young children. Being an agent means you're apart of two worlds, and people loved and hated you depending what time it was. At night, you were a symbol of safety and protection; at day, you were a symbol of chaos and destruction.

I tugged my coat a little tighter, and continued walking down the pavement, halting at a stop sign, and then hurriedly crossed the road. I passed a small corner store, and then stopped by a rather large plot of land.

The building standing in front of me was a library, but it looked more like a house. A small wooden sign poked out above the door that read: _Ferngarden Library_. I knew that this was a fairly new establishment, because only one year ago this was an the house of an old lady who I assumed passed away.

I walked up the steps and opened the door. I was greeted by a drab, homey looking room, and straight across from the entryway was yet another door; a long, old carpet rolled across the floor, and to the left of me was a very dusty desk. To the right was a tall staircase, and, (I didn't notice this, for the record) another wooden sign hanging on the wall that read: _Book collection upstairs_!

A young woman who looked like a teenager herself sat in the depths of a chair. She had curly red hair, pretty green eyes, and an elegantly round and at the same time a pointed face. She looked up from a stack of papers to stare at me.

"Hello," The girl said. "Is there anything I can help you with, agent?" I scanned her voice for resentment and distaste with a frown-when I couldn't find anything negative, only neutral politeness, my frown deepened.

"How does everyone know—? Never mind. Actually, is there a collection of fictional books anywhere?..." I glanced around. Not a single bookshelf stood around me.

"Oh, yes, you see that little sign? Sorry, I know it's a bit small," She gave an apologetic smile. Hanging on the wall that hugged the staircase was a sign pointing to the collection. "What's your name? Sorry, I have to write it down, it's a bit of a log I have to keep."

"Madeline Frost." I pulled my coat a little tighter. The girl looked at me with surprise, and I had the sudden urge to bolt out the door.

"I read about you in the _Times_ ," The girl said. "You helped find the Source of the ghosts that were terrorizing the Lotterbox Law Firm, didn't you?"

"Er...yes," I said. "All I really did was hit my head and fall in an elevator, though."

The red-haired girl gave a little laugh of amusement, and after a few moments of awkward tension, she added, "Don't mind my goggling—my name's Melody Ferngarden, by the way."

"Ferngarden…that name sounds familiar," I searched my mind. "Didn't an elderly lady named Ida Ferngarden use to live here?"

Melody's leafy eyes shadowed slightly. "Yes, she was my grandmother. A very kind woman. Anyway, I shouldn't keep you from looking around."

I didn't argue. I turned, and quietly slipped upstairs.

I left the homely library after picking out several books; by the time I was sitting on the sofa at home, I'd tunneled deep into a science fiction novel. Melody Ferngarden hadn't lied; the few books I chose were riveting tales.

After about thirty minutes of turning pages and listening to the sound of the clock ticking, William had returned from his movie, wind-battered and blurry-eyed from what I assumed was sitting in a dark room all day and just emerging into the light.

"Was the movie good?" I spoke without even trailing my gaze away from the book.

"Yes, it was good. A bit soppier than I thought it'd be, but other than that, good." William shook off his coat and flopped down on the sofa across from me. "What did you do today?"

I put down my novel. "I went to a library. Remember that old woman Ida Ferngarden?—She passed, I think, and her granddaughter turned her house into a library. They've got a nice collection of books."

"Sounds…" William paused. I assumed he'd say something like 'interesting' or, 'cool'. Something like that.

"Boring?" I guessed. "Yes, everything except destroying Visitors seems boring now, doesn't it?"

William nodded. "I've forgotten the last time when the year was always made up of these kinds of days."

"Thank God it's not," I said. "That would be awfully dull."

William smiled. "Right. Oh, it's nearly time for dinner. I suppose I'll get it started—how about tacos?"

"Tacos?"

"Yes, yes, I know we don't normally eat tacos, but I've got nothing else to do with those tortillas we keep in the pantry."

"Okay..."

William jumped off the couch, walked past the sofa, and into the kitchen. A moment later I could hear the sound of sizzling meat on a pan.

I resumed my book. Time passed. The plot twisted and turned. All the while, the house remained silent.

I glanced across the room at a long table that clung to the wall that bordered the kitchen. Proudly set up across the long table were trophies of past cases; on the occasion that we didn't mess it up.

I set the book down, quietly got to my feet, and studied five relics on display, all in silver-glass cases; one a bloody, rusted old hook of a pirate that was executed on the grounds where a day-care center now stood. I had heard the scratching sound of the ghost's hook against a beautiful mural displaying lions, zebras, giraffes, and other exotic animals. I was the one who sliced my rapier clean across the Visitor before it could ghost-touch us, saving all of our lives. But nearly each trophy was before my time here; one was a scarlet-red handkerchief spotted with a darker color of what I presumed was blood. I knew the handkerchief belonged to a woman who went mad and murdered her husband, then shortly killed herself after. Eliza discovered the crime after the woman was reportedly terrorizing an old hotel. Three more relics were there; a bloody watch (from a case that William solved), a long, sharp, rusted old knife, from a case that I knew was Toby's, and then there was another. It was a silver pendant.

It was a beautiful piece of jewelry; not glimmering or shiny, but it possessed an air of age and timeless beauty, one that didn't need sparkling bedazzlement.

I often wondered the story behind the pendant. None of my colleagues had boasted that the relic belonged to a case that they played a critical part in solving. No one claimed it as theirs. It could be Toby's, from when he first started his agency one year ago. But then, he had told me the story behind the rusted knife, but was silent when it came to that old pendant.

"I've always wondered where that thing came from, too," I jumped at a voice; it was Eliza's. She had just came from downstairs. Her dirty-blonde hair was in a messy braid, her eyes blinked tiredly, but still shining with infinite curiosity and interest.

"Think it was from Toby's first successful case?" I mused.

"Maybe. He's never mentioned it. Perhaps the case didn't go well for someone else." Eliza tilted her head. "Oh, we can spend the whole year theorizing about this."

"Toby is so…frustrating," A frown flickered across my lips as I stared at the pendant.

"Oh, sorry, Maddie. Did I leave the kettle on and forget about it?" Toby was suddenly hopping down the stairs, his dark hair unruly like he'd spent all day standing out in the winds.

My cheeks went red for a moment, and I noted to myself not to talk about Toby when he was in the house. "That's not what I meant, but you do have an unfortunate tendency to do that."

Toby smiled, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. At once, I knew that this was a sign he was in a good mood.

Eliza cleared her throat. "What's the matter with you today?"

"I got a call," He said. "From a Mr. Ezra Lionsworth. He's a wealthy man, lives over in the area of Cheviot Hills, just on the edge in a rather posh neighborhood. Apparently, his household's being plagued by a pair of ghosts—a woman and her daughter."

"That's great," I said. And it was. The Lotterbox case had given us tons of publicity. Hopefully, this would repair our reckless reputation. "Er...William's making tacos tonight, by the way."

For a moment, Toby looked disconcerted. "Tacos?"

"It's all we have!" William's voice rose to sound behind the wall where we were speaking. I could smell the sizzling meat, making my stomach churn.

Perhaps it wasn't the strong, nauseating smell of William's tacos; it was something I'd been feeling—dreading, ever since the end of the Lotterbox Case. A suspicion. A weariness. A distrust.

The weariness revolved around me. I had started that argument with Toby at the law firm and stirred a Poltergeist that could have killed everyone. What if I endangered them again?

Even more, I wasn't sure if I could completely trust Toby. Yes, I knew he would risk his life for me, that's what added guiltiness into the swirling, confusing mixture of emotions. But how could I risk my life, like any other agent would do for her colleagues, if I barely knew him? It seemed that the only information I collected while staying here was his name. That simply wasn't enough.

My gaze flickered over towards Toby, who was casually leaning against the wall next to the opening that led to the kitchen. His black hair was in a windswept fashion, shadowing his pale, lean face. His gray eyes sparkled with anticipation of our next case. He worse usual business-casual attire. I often wondered if I'd ever truly know him, and the question that commonly crossed my mind was; who is Toby Gallenhood?

 **Boop! That's it for this short, kind-of-boring chapter. Hopefully the next one will be longer. :)**


	5. Chapter 5 - Foul Story

**CHAPTER 5**

We started the morning the usual way; I woke up at 9 PM, stumbled downstairs, freshly dressed in my usual business clothes. I walked out my door, still blurry-eyed and slow-minded due to just awakening.

The nightmarish dreams that cursed my sleep didn't help my state. The images flashed again in my mind, and I shivered. I had dreamed of the hideous creature, the Raw-bones, with its flesh hanging limply off a burnt face. It's left arm completely detached, and only a waterfall of sticky blood flowed where the missing limb should be. It's fury impacted me hard as that curved desk that slammed me into the elevator in the first place. The infinite anger driving the spirits to seek revenge on the son of their murderer still echoed in my mind, making my fingertips tingle.

And worse of all, my recklessness. I know that everyone forgave my mistake, yet the guilt clung to my mind, influencing my every movement. I was so stupid. Normally, I wouldn't think more of it once my colleagues forgave me, but not now. A deeper guilt still engulfed me. I endangered them. And Toby tried to save me, again. How many times would that have to happen before he failed and hurt himself? What if that happened to Eliza or William?

I shook myself, straightened my skirt, and shoved my fists deeper into my sweater pockets.

Before I could march downstairs, a door swung open, and I lurched backwards to avoid it slamming into my face. Toby slipped out, closing the door quickly and quietly.

"Maddie—sorry, I didn't know you were there," He said. "Oh, good, you're already dressed. We're about to head to Hethpool-the town near Cheviot Hills, to tend to that client."

"Client?...Oh, yes, him. I remember." My dark thoughts lingered slightly, clouding my brain and blocking a sensible reply. The one thing I did successfully observe, however, was a scar running across Toby's jawline, not very noticeable, but it was there. A reminder of a mistake. I looked away, eager to hurry downstairs and engulf myself in the daily business.

"Something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong."

Toby looked at me skeptically. "Alright, then. Breakfast's ready. Bloody French toast again."

I smiled briefly, then slipped downstairs. The scent of French toast filled the house, clogging up my nose and making my stomach grumble. I walked past the collection of trophies and entered the kitchen.

Four plates were set on the table, Eliza and mine bore two pieces of toast, heavily sprinkled with powdered sugar. I eagerly made a beeline for my chair, thankful to have a distraction.

"Ah, you two are awake," William gave us a bright smile. "I was beginning to think I'd have to knock your door down with a salt-bomb or something." He sat down in his own chair.

"That's not needed today," Toby said before picking up a piece of French toast. After swallowing, he added, "I told you about our new client, didn't I?"

"Only about fifteen times," Eliza rolled her eyes. "Mr. Lionsworth, and yes, I got up at about 7 PM today and headed straight to the Archives. Looked up everything in that neighborhood. Got a story, too."

We all looked expectantly at her.

Eliza paused to dip her last piece of toast into a snowy pile of powdered sugar, then bit off a piece and smiled. "It's the usual gruesome tale. Back in the 18th century, a man murdered his wife and daughter, he was called Robert Shell—he signed their insurance policies a year earlier. Upon further inspection, they put him under suspicion and after a short trail, Robert went off to prison."

"So why did they come back?" I asked finally. "If their killer went to jail?"

"Ah, yes, but he only stayed for less than six months," Eliza said. "The investigation surrounding the murders led to Robert's personal chef, Vincent Browl. Funny name, can't really say it right. Anyway, Vincent was placed at the time of the wife and daughter's death, and some anonymous bloke vouched that Robert Shell was on a business trip when they died. Robert got out, Vincent spent his life in prison. Robert married again, had three children, then died of old age. He confessed to the crime with his dying breath."

"Wow," William dropped his last piece of toast limply back onto the plate. "I suddenly don't feel very hungry anymore. What a foul story."

"It's ancient history," Toby said. "Doesn't matter. The daughter and wife are both Visitors. They're dangerous."

At this point, I was tempted to lob my last piece of French toast at Toby's head, but I restrained myself. "Have they been reported to attacking the staff, or anyone else?"

"One of them tried to reach out and grab the chef's lad. So they're aggressive. I expect you all to behave professionally and strictly follow my orders, this sounds like a dangerous case." I swear, Toby's gaze flickered over towards me as he spoke.

I bristled at this. "Don't worry, we'll be good little children."

The air crackled with tension for a few moments. Toby froze, his gaze narrowing. "Madeline, if you don't want to obey orders, you're very welcome to stay here. I won't bring anyone on a case if they threaten to endanger others."

By now, I immediately regretted my words; I could feel Eliza and William's stares burning into me, and I shifted uncomfortably, like a child scolded by their teacher.

"I'll start packing the duffel bags," William cleared his throat and stood abruptly, empty plate in hand. "Anyone want to help?—Maddie?"

"Sure." I dragged my gaze away from Toby and stood up, dropping my plate in the sink. I followed William out of the kitchen and into the basement where we kept all the equipment.

William and I opened the silver-laced lockers that housed salt-bombs, large bags of lavender, silver and iron fillings, and other things that helped destroy or repel Visitors.

We worked swiftly and silently. I was tucking away a magnesium flare in a secure pouch hanging from my work belt when William broke the silence.

"Maddie, I'm kind of worried for you," William grabbed a packet of lavender-and-salt fillings and put it in the first duffel bags.

"Why?" I didn't look up.

"You're always poking the mysterious black-haired bear," William stared at me. "I don't know how long Toby will tolerate you arguing with him and disobeying him. I really don't want to see you kicked out."

"Hold on—the 'mysterious black-haired bear'? Do you mean Toby? I'm the only one who's willing to ask appropriate questions. You were the first agent here, William, and tell me, do you know anything about Toby? His parents? Any siblings? How did he get the house?"

"Why do you have to be so nosy and curious about it?" William asked. "He's a good leader. He nearly died for you a few times, and saved you from falling to your death. That's good enough for me," He paused. "I'm not sure I'm the first agent…"

"Well, not for me," I set the second duffel bag down and began to pull out the iron chains. "If I have to work with someone and trust them, I have to know them. I don't know Toby. I know you and Eliza, so it's easier—what did you say about not being the first agent?"

William shrugged. "There could have been someone before me. I joined when the company was already five months old. And you know Toby would die for any of us. You can trust him."

That statement lingered in my mind for many days. Could there have been another agent before all of us? Was that an important piece of uncovering Toby's past?

"I'll try to stop arguing," I said, pulling out my rapier from my weapons locker. I slid it into place next to my work belt. "I guess you're right."

William looked relieved and slightly surprised, as if he thought I wouldn't listen. "Good, good...are you ready?"

I nodded, adjusted my work belt, then picked up the heavy duffel bag and went upstairs.

Eliza and Toby were waiting for us upstairs, cleaning ectoplasm off their shining rapiers.

I let my duffel bag drop down, happy to be relieved of its burden. Toby didn't look up, he just slid a piece of cloth over his blade in silence.

Eliza however, did notice us. "Sure we'll need two duffel bags for this?"

"We want to be careful," William said, "Especially after the Poltergeist Incident of 2016…no, we don't speak of it!" He added when Eliza opened her mouth to comment, eyes narrowed.

I gave a brief half-smile. That was William, for you. He was hardly ever barren of jokes and carefree smiles, except when one of us was in danger. If we were facing the most blood-curdling Raw-bones, he'd still try to make you laugh.

Toby paid no attention to what William said. He slid his rapier into place, stood up from leaning against the wall, and observed us. "Right. We're all ready? Good. Let's go."

The cab ride over to Trafalgar Square (the closest bus station available) was quiet. None of us were particularly buzzing with things to talk about.

Toby was staring out the foggy window as we passed through the streets of London; today, like many other days, was gray and colorless.

Eliza had a notebook and was scribbling words onto the page swiftly. I wondered what she was writing—it could be notes for our case, or one of Eliza's personal stories.

William was drawing something. I could only get a glimpse of the picture, but I could make out a huge mansion, a giant architectural masterpiece. Many great pillars and shining windows were etched into the image, with grand doors. William, to my knowledge, was a great traditional artist.

I had few hobbies other than reading. Until now, I overlooked the fact that my life revolved around subduing ghosts. What would I do when, on that one dreadful day that was no doubt coming, my Talent disappears?

I knew my colleagues would undoubtedly have bright futures awaiting them; I always imagined Eliza as an inspiring writer, and William a successful artist once our ghost-hunting days were over.

And then what would our mysterious leader do? Toby seldom spoke of any desires outside managing the agency and removing ghosts. He had no hobbies that I knew of.

I glanced at him now; his pale face highlighted by the green light of ghost-lamps hanging from the streets that we passed. His gaze was distracted, and I wondered what he was thinking of.

 _I really should apologize to him_ , I thought. The idea didn't exactly appeal to me, but I knew I should.

A few minutes later, we were hauling our duffel bags onto the street and dragging ourselves to buy our train tickets.

We stood there, engulfed in the swarming crowd around us; other agents with duffel bags and rapiers hanging at their sides passed us. Regular people gave us bewildered stares before adjusting their coats and getting on with their day.

Finally, our train roared by and came to a halt. The doors wheezed and opened. People poured out and we squeezed in.

I sat next to William, and we were soon laughing and conversing together. He told me jokes, I made comedic replies and we both laughed. This went on for a while.

Toby sat next to a Rotwell agent on the row of seats behind us. Across from me and William, Eliza was still scribbling on a page of paper.

Soon, the conversation between me and William died away, and he resumed sketching. I pulled out the paperback science-fiction novel I borrowed from the Ferngarden Library a day before from my duffel bag and began to read. It's pages smelled of lavender and a few particles of salt was hidden among the chapters, and I hoped that Melody Ferngarden wouldn't mind the strong fragrance when I eventually returned it.

"What are you drawing?" My novel had made a boring turn, and I glanced across at William; he was polishing the picture, making final adjustments.

"My old house," I noticed William hesitated slightly when he told me that. "I know, it's big…real challenge to sketch it, especially from memory."

I stared at the sketch. The humorous conversing melted away into a difficult seriousness. I know William didn't like talking about his background, it was so unlike him to dwell on darker stories.

His father is a very rich heart surgeon, cold and distant. William's mother left them seven years ago, disappearing in the middle of the night. The woman had bought a plane ticket to Paris and abandoned her family, providing William or her husband no further contact.

"It's a very beautiful house," I said. "Do you miss it?"

"Kind of, and kind of not," William made a small movement with his fingers as if to add another smooth curving line onto the drawing, but then stopped and put the pencil down. "I miss some of it. Like playing in the lawn with my mother and father. He wasn't always so cruel, you know. He started that act after she left…who am I to complain, though? I was a spoiled rich kid."

"Don't say that," I told him. "If that was me, I'd be upset too."

"You get it too, don't you? Your mother's gone and your father never has time for you."

I shifted in my seat. "Yes. I know how you feel."

"Does it ever go away?—The feeling, I mean?"

I gazed at him. "I'll let you know."

All went quiet after that. William stared at me for a few more moments, then resumed with his notebook, turning a page and then began to run the pencil against the paper in long, smooth strokes.

I stared out the window; my science-fiction novel seem irrelevant now. I listened to the sound of William's pencil running along paper and the soft murmuring of the people behind me.

It would take a while to get to Cheviot Hills. I hated having nothing to do. If I didn't find some way to busy myself, my thoughts would drift closer, slowly suffocating me.

I began to think about Toby; his coldness, my recklessness. Guilt clawed at me, and I felt an uncomfortable itch under my skin. Why did I always have to start a fight? Was it just my frustration at his remoteness?

My hand gripped my rapier hilt. I didn't know him! I had no clues about his background. I haven't even had a glance inside his room. And yet, I lived in this stranger's house. I fought alongside him and at times trusted him with my life.

Okay, maybe stranger is a rather rough description. I've known him for three months. But not really known him.

I knew Eliza. I knew William. I trusted them. Did I trust Toby? I should. I know I should...

I shoved my hands in my coat pockets, pushing back the thoughts. I pulled out the paperback novel and resumed reading.

The book kept me entranced for another forty minutes. The train wheezed and groaned.

Then, slowly, it came to a halt. A voice sounded faintly in the background through a microphone, warning the passengers that Curfew was near and to abort the train.

I stood up abruptly, looked down on William, who hadn't noticed the people flooding out of the train and was still sketching. I got a quick glimpse of the picture. It was a girl, tall, with a round face and short hair that fell to her shoulders. After a moment of trying to identify the girl, I realized she was me.

"William," I said, "We've got to go. The train's stopped."

William blinked, quickly turned the page of the notebook, and then stood up. "Oh…right. Did you see what I was sketching?…"

"Yes, yes I did. And I don't think my nose is that long. Otherwise, accurate. Now let's get going before we're left behind."

William, slightly red-faced, followed me and we squeezed out among the sea of people streaming out the bus doors.

After leaving the train, Eliza, William, Toby, and I caught a cab and were on our way to where our client was awaiting.

Eliza was no longer scribbling on her notebook, and William wasn't sketching anymore. There wasn't enough room in the cab for that.

I was sitting next to William when Eliza spoke. "So...Mr. Lionsworth, is he?"

Toby gave a nod. "Yes, Ezra Lionsworth. He's a successful writer, I think. And works in the housing market. He's quite rich, has two children and a wife."

"Is he the worrisome type of client?" I asked aloud.

"Oh, they're all worrisome. But he didn't seem very difficult. I suppose this won't be as bad as the Lotterbox Case." Toby adjusted his work belt as he spoke.

I didn't say anything. I just wanted to forget that night at the Lotterbox Law Firm, and that terrible, burnt creature.

After that, the four of us lapsed into silence as the cab swerved and turned on its way to Jaxworth Square, where we'd take yet another train before finally arriving at our destination.

I stared out the window for the rest of the cab ride.

The trip to the train station was a blur. When the cab driver dropped us off at Jaxworth Square, it was four o'clock, and people were already hurrying home. A few cafés and other restaurant were still open around the square, but most were already fleeing to prepare their home defenses.

Toby hauled the last duffel bag out of the cab before it sped away. The train station was just to our left.

We wasted no time. We hurried past the crowds of people, our work-belts jangling loudly and our duffel bags swinging.

This time, I sat next to Eliza. After my conversation with William, and discovering his sketch, I found that striking up a topic with him would be slightly awkward.

I pulled out my book again and started to read. Eliza wrote. We said nothing to each other the entire ride.

Mentally, however, I was silently preparing myself for the images that might be waiting for us; torn flesh and missing limbs, bleeding, gaping wounds, and other gory things that went with the job. But the scariest thing was the echo that could threaten to overpower me. The sadness. The joy, betrayal, fierce anger and bitterness -it could all knock me off my feet at any moment.

That's the trouble being a Sensitive. You witnessed things deeper than just the grotesque image on the outside. No, you get to feel the Visitor's raging emotions yourself.

All the while, you had to keep your own emotions under control. You had to remain calm, even as the force of the psychic echo battered you from all sides.

You could say that I bore the most dangerous Talent. It not only put me at risk, it put everyone around me at risk. My Talent's like a ticking time bomb; at any moment, it could go off and destroy everyone I love.

Love.

Was that the right word to describe the way I felt about my colleagues? I trusted William and Eliza with my life, definitely. But I only joined the company three months ago.

I risked a chancy glance across at William. I imagined what it would feel like if he died because of me. If he died at all, for any reason. To my surprise, I felt a deep, agonizing feeling of loss and pain. I imagined the same for Eliza; the matching feeling came, yet slightly less intense.

Don't get me wrong, I definitely care about Eliza, but William…I thought of the sketch. All the cases that we often went on together (I argue with him far less than any other colleague of mine) and the simple times we spent together, talking and laughing. Life would be utterly dull without him.

I suppose I'm closer to William than Eliza or Toby. Why? William was honest and open. He didn't hide his past like Toby did. He was funny and talked to me, unlike Eliza.

The train stopped. I pushed back my thoughts and grabbed the duffel bag, (it was my turn to carry it) and then brushed past Eliza, already heading for the opening doors.

 **That's it for now. I may or may not continue the story (I already have around 15 chapters written, and rather ambitious plans for the plotline) but I'll have to see if anybody's interested in it. 'Bye! :)**


	6. Chapter 6 - Ambushed

**I decided to update the story, because why not? Also, if anyone's wondering about the romance, you'll find out quite soon. And I've written a brief little peek into Eliza's personal life, because again, why not? But that's for future chapters. Really close future chapters.**

 **CHAPTER 6**

Hethpool was a cozy little village tucked away in the northern part of England, snug and providing a safe, small-town feel.

That's what I would say if I was there to enjoy it. No, I was there to destroy two vengeful spirits that arose from the dead to wreak havoc among the living.

So, as we stepped out from our final cab and onto Mr. Lionsworth's curving driveway, I wasn't really paying attention to his huge, lush, and this was the only way to describe it —polished estate.

The sun was beginning to set, casting an orange light across my companions' faces.

Toby led the way along the pavement that spiraled around the lawn two grand front doors; He hesitated, adjusting his coat, and then knocked upon the mahogany door.

We all waited in a tense silence. I quickly made some last-minute re-adjustments to my jangling work belt, fixing my rapier into place. That's when the door opened.

The man who greeted us was an image that I did not expect; he had a fleeting gray hair-line, rows of wrinkles that became more intense around his gray eyes. He wore a slightly-old fashion black suit, with a matching black tie. The first impression I received from him was someone completely and utterly drained of joy and childish wonder; someone who had seen the cruelties of the world and hadn't been the same since.

William cleared his throat. "Er…Mr. Lionsworth?"

The old man blinked. "No."

"We're here to meet a Mr. Ezra Lionsworth," Toby said. "We're from the Ivywood Lane Agency of London. Mr. Lionsworth has acquired out services for a case of supernatural activity."

"Mr. Lionsworth said something about an agency. I am not him, by all means. I am his personal assistant, Roy Kalesmith," The man's steely gaze surveyed our equipment and duffel bags as he spoke with obvious distaste.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Kalesmith," Toby's smile did not waver. "Is Ezra Lionsworth, then? It would be most appropriate for us to discuss this matter with the property owner."

"He's in his office. I suppose you should come in."

The man held the door open for us with the obvious reluctance of someone stepping a lion's den. I hurriedly rushed forward, Eliza and William shuffling in after me.

Mr. Ezra Lionsworth lived in a beautiful place, there was no real arguing that.

When entering the mansion, you were greeted by a grand opening with shining marble floors. Two staircases ran parallel from each other. Where the two large stairs met, an area overlooked the entrance. Just below the left staircase was a tall door, and another set of doors was straight ward from where we were standing now.

Many irrelevant decorations hung on the walls and other places. Those didn't matter. We were here to destroy two dangerous Visitors.

Mr. Kalesmith walked across the entry with no hesitation, looking untouched by its grand beauty. He opened the second set of doors swiftly and quietly; that opened to reveal another large room.

I didn't drink in the details of the room this time. Instead, I focused on the man sitting nearby, scribbling onto a deck of organized papers. He looked up from his scribbling and gave us a friendly smile.

Ezra Lionsworth was not the man I envisioned him to be. I imagined an unsmiling person with the humor of a dying cow. Someone who was all work and business, with little warmth let alone a friendly manner.

The Ezra Lionsworth in front of us was undoubtedly mature, yet still had the glow of youth and excitement. He had brown hair tossed about in a windswept fashion, and wore casual jeans and a dark green shirt. His eyes were brown and shining, and his smile gleamed. He stood up from the sofa.

Toby looked slightly taken aback as well, but did not hesitate as he reached out with a hand. Ezra Lionsworth shook it firmly, his smile broadening.

"Hello—you must be Toby Gallenhood," Ezra Lionsworth surveyed us with a warm gleam in his eyes. "I assume you're William Stonegarden, and you're Eliza Sorrem…and you, Madeline Frost, is it? Very glad to meet you all."

You could say I was a little more than taken aback by his greeting. Most of our clients treated us with careful wariness and uncomfortable distaste. And yet, Mr. Lionsworth seemed bright as a button, with an air of carefreeness lingering around him.

"We're all very pleased to meet you as well, Mr. Lionsworth. Thank you for choosing us—we known there are dozens of larger alternatives out there." Toby's voice betrayed no surprise.

"Ah, yes, there are plenty of choices. But your company stood out to me, and I was also very impressed by your rendering of the ghosts that haunted the Lotterbox Lawfirm—please, sit down." Mr. Lionsworth nodded and gestured to the sofa.

I didn't hesitate. I set my duffel bag next to me, pulled my shoulders back slightly, and lifted my chin. Mr. Lionsworth was a very important client after all, and bad first impressions were not tolerable.

"Thank you. Shall we discuss the nature of this case?" Toby returned a polite smile.

"Yes, of course," only now did Mr. Lionsworth's friendly attitude ruffle. "Three nights ago, my youngest daughter reported seeing two figures in the yard—the one in the back. She said that they both looked female. My son also said the same. I immediately took action and sent my children to their grandmother's while the matter is dealt with."

"Did your children report anything specific about the apparitions?" Toby questioned. "Shape, size, clothes?..."

"My daughter said that they were both wearing odd clothing, and the way she described them told me they probably lived in the Victorian era. Nothing else about appearance, but my children were very traumatized. They said the ghosts 'felt bad.' I don't know what that meant, but as you can imagine, I was more than worried." Mr. Lionsworth straightened his shirt collar after he was done speaking.

"We understand," Toby said. "We'll have this matter dealt with very carefully and quietly. I assume we have permission to use magnesium flares if needed?"

Ezra Lionsworth hesitated ever so slightly before replying. "Of course…but that's not a likely option that you'll chose to end the case with, is it?"

"One can never tell. It's not really an option when you're about to be ghost-touched." Eliza's voice was flat and cold.

Mr. Lionsworth blinked, and I shot Eliza a swift glare of surprise. We needed to be as polite and professional as possible; there was no room for dry comments.

"You're someone who tolerates no foolishness, aren't you?" Ezra Lionsworth's disrupted smile had resurfaced. "Yes, I understand. I will be leaving shortly to visit my children. You've met my personal assistant, Roy Kalesmith?"

"Yes."

"He will show you around the yard and give you the gist of the place. I hope you can complete the job successfully." Mr. Lionsworth stood up, and we did as well. He picked up a small, brown, battered leather suitcase and nodded. "Right. Is there anything else I need to inform you all of?"

Toby shook his head. "No, we have the general idea. Have a smooth trip, Mr. Lionsworth. It was pleasant meeting you."

Ezra Lionsworth smiled again. "Yes, you too. I'll be off, then. Good luck."

The sound of Mr. Lionsworth's shoes echoed off the shining marble floors as he opened the large mahogany doors and started towards the mansion's entrance.

Mr. Roy Kalesmith had been observing our entire encounter with Ezra Lionsworth and cleared his throat. "I will take you to the back garden now."

We followed him to another set of grand doors that opened up to a spacious pool deck. With it being the start of Autumn and all, the pool had a blue tarp covering the water. Across from the deck was a spiraling brick path that led up to a vast tennis court, and to our right was another pathway leading to a very lush and large garden.

"Wow," William breathed. "Mr. Lionsworth's got a fairly heavy wallet, huh?"

"He's a very effective businessman, yes." Mr. Kalesmith said carefully, stopping at the edge of the pool deck. "The apparitions appear roaming around the garden shortly after 6 'o'clock. I know nothing more."

"Thank you," Toby said. "I think it would be wise for you to stay inside while we work, Mr. Kalesmith."

The old man hesitated. "Relying on children for our protection," He grumbled to himself. "This world's in chaos."

But the assistant didn't provide us with any other comments as he turned and pulled upon one of the grand French doors that led out to the pool deck. He disappeared inside and the door closed.

My tensed shoulders relaxed and slumped forward to my normal posture. "What's the plan?"

"Subdue the ghosts with some iron and lavender and then search for the Source," Toby said. "And don't try anything else."

I looked down at my feet. "The garden's fairly large. We could get ambushed by the ghosts."

Toby threw the swirling tangle of green an inspective glance. "It is. We get to go in teams today. Madeline, you go with William. Eliza, you're with me. And remember—always stick together."

William looked at me, and then at Toby. "Okay."

"Great. Let's go."

Mr. Ezra Lionsworth's garden was a maze of symmetrically-correct bushes and flowers.

The air was beginning to buzz. The sun had sunk below the horizon and that familiar feeling had crept up my spine.

It felt like my awkwardness in public, my discomfort at being exposed to the normal life was gone; I wasn't an outsider. I was doing my job, making England a better place.

William and I wondered the maze of lushness quietly. We only spoke to report readings and temperature drops.

"Sense anything, Mad?" William asked at last as we brushed our way past an opening.

"Nothing," I frowned. "Eliza and Toby probably have found something by now."

"Oh, you never know…I can't really sense anything too, though. Not even a tiny little death-glow." William looked perplexed.

We continued looking. The vast garden began to curve around the mansion and stretch out towards the front yard before dying away at the sides of the house.

William and I emerged onto a grassy hill with a large oak tree standing on top, viewing the grandness of everything around it.

"Quite a view," said William. "Reminds me of my old house—except that one was a tad bit bigger. I got lost there once, when I was little."

"Lost in the garden?"

"Well, yes. I didn't find my way back to the house until the next day."

"I wish I could have seen your house," I said aloud. "It sounds nice."

"Oh, it's awfully boring, really," William didn't look at me. He stared around at everything around us.

It was night now. I could hear crickets chirping and the soft buzzing of bees nearby. It was quite peaceful actually, and for a moment, I didn't want to leave the grassy hill.

I leaned back against the tree. "William," I began, "You know that golden pendant on the trophy table?"

"What about it?"

"Do you…know where it came from, maybe? Like who's case it was from? No one's ever spoke about it. Not Toby or Eliza."

William hesitated. "No, I have no idea where it came from, actually. Toby has never told me anything about it."

"You said you might have not been the first agent, right?" I asked. "So the pendant could have…"

"Maybe. Does it matter?" William glanced at me. "I thought you were giving up being Inspector Madeline."

"What? I was never 'Inspector Madeline'! I'm just curious. It could be important." I folded my arms.

"Important how?" William suddenly grew serious. "If Toby wanted to talk about it, he would have. But he hasn't. I would give it up if I were you."

His humorous tone had changed so suddenly it unsettled me; remember when I said the only time William was serious and humorless was when one of us was in danger? How could simply wanting to find out more about Toby be dangerous?

"Alright. I won't wonder about it."

"You're lying, right?"

"Yeah." I stood up from leaning against the giant oak. "I'll definitely wonder, but I won't act recklessly. I don't want to put you guys in danger again…I really was stupid with the Lotterbox Case."

"Don't say that," William's voice echoed affection and warmth, and his eyes were sympathetic. I shifted on my feet. "You're a great agent, Maddie."

After a few moments, I cleared my throat. "Thanks. We should get back to Eliza and Toby, though."

William nodded in agreement and followed me back down the hill, leaving the oak behind.

But we never made it back into the swirling maze of plants, at least, not without being interrupted. Two shapes had appeared before us, their mouths agape with fury as their screams filled the night air.

The force of them knocked be off my feet. I scrambled backwards, heart stopping a beat. One of them reached out for William, and he crashed backwards just in time before the outreaching hand could touch him.

My breath was coming in short gasps of surprise; one of the ghosts had separated from its counterpart and was now reaching forward as if to grab me. My hand moved towards my rapier, and I drew it, slashing through the shape with hands trembling from shock and fear.

The ghost vanished as my blade cut through it; it peeled away into clouds of fading gray mist.

I lay there for a moment, at the bottom of the hill, my breath coming in short gasps of utter shock. Then I reminded myself there was another ghost. And I couldn't hear William at all.

I turned. The second ghost was slowly moving forward, and without thinking, I threw my rapier across and it flew through the shape, and it too, vanished into the night air.

I crawled over towards where the shape had dispersed and retrieved my rapier, hands still shaking.

"William…" I just realized he was laying against the hill, eyes shut. I couldn't tell if he was breathing or not because he wore a heavy coat that disguised subtle movement. His brown hair flopped across his face, and his hand reached out to one side, rapier held loosely in one hand.

"William…get up. They're gone." I looked down at him. After a few moments of no response, I spoke louder. "Get up, you bloody idiot! I told you. They're gone."

Still, no reply.

I was seriously worried by now. I shook his shirt collar fiercely. "Wake up!"

This time, his eyes flashed open. He gave a sudden gasp and reached up, so I lurched backwards.

William stared at me, wide-eyed and surprised. "Maddie! What happened?"

"I…" My words came in stutters. My heart was still pounding in my chest. Relief burned through my shock, and, without thinking, I leaned forward and grasped my arms around him. "I thought you were dead!"

William looked surprised, then hugged me tighter. "I'm fine—are you okay?"

I pulled away and steadied myself. "Yeah. I think so."

"I think I hit my head on the ground and was knocked out for a second," William said. "What happened to the ghosts?"

"Gone. I sliced them both with my rapier," My heartbeat had begun to slow, and I collected myself. "They shouldn't resurfaced until tomorrow night—if we haven't secured their Source by now."

William stood up, and then reached down with his hand. I let him help me up, my feet still tingling and my arms still shaking. "I suppose we should get Eliza and Toby to help us find it?"

"Yeah." And then, we headed back into the depths of the garden together.

 **That's it! Make sure to leave a review-constructive criticism and suggestions are welcome! :)**


	7. Chapter 7 - Always a Shock

CHAPTER 7

"So, you two went up to this hill and coming down you were attacked by two ghosts?" Toby summarized as we led him over to where the garden curved and melted away into a more unruly part of the estate.

"Yes," I replied with an edge to my voice. "William got knocked out and we nearly got ghost-touched. But they shouldn't be returning until tomorrow night."

"Why is that?" Eliza inquired. She glanced down at her work belt as she spoke, readying her equipment.

"Maddie shredded them with a rapier, that's why," William gave me a playful nudge. "Saved my bacon, that's for sure."

I smiled. It felt odd smiling in the darkness, wondering through a vast yard to destroy the Source of a dangerous haunting. But I could smile all night, if that wasn't a creepy thing for someone to do. Because William was alive. He didn't die.

I looked at him now; his face half cloaked in the shadows, his brown eyes shining. I couldn't imagine losing him.

"You ran down both of the ghosts with your sword?" Toby looked impressed. I nodded. "That's some good work there, Maddie."

I felt a glow of warmth at his praise. Nothing could be better. We were out doing our duty, making England a safer place. I had my companions at my side, rapier and salt bombs ready. All was as it should be.

As the garden began to fade behind us, I replayed the scene that occurred by the hill.

At the time, I was so shocked and afraid I couldn't capture any details. But now, with William safe and the ghosts dispersed, I remembered.

The ghost that went for me was tall, with long, wispy locks of hair coiling around her shoulders. She wore a heavy gray-satin dress, with several visible layers underneath and a frilly white collar. Atop her head lay a hat with a ribbon wrapped around it. She had a gleaming diamond necklace, so, presumably, she lived a luxurious and rich life. She wore a wedding ring. The wife.

I couldn't recall much about the daughter; I was too busy slicing my rapier through her so she wouldn't ghost-touch William. I remembered her hair in a braid and her eyes black shining with hatred. Looking back, I think she wore clothing not unlike her mothers; a heavy Victorian-style gown, except with a firm neckline and cuffs.

I suppose the husband killed them by the hill and buried their bodies there.

I shivered. What a grim story of injustice. If the ghosts weren't so aggressive and threatened my life, I might have felt sympathy for them.

We stopped by the base of the hill, a cold night breeze flew by and whisked around us. We hesitated there for a moment, drinking in the odd, dark serenity of the scene.

Then Toby held up his shovel that we stole from the large gardening shed. "So the husband killed them here and buried their bodies, right?"

"Most probably." Eliza replied.

"Then I'll get to it," Toby lodged the shovel into the earth, and then flung it up. A pile of dirt began to form as we stood around our leader.

Toby dug for a while, and found nothing but dirt and roots. I was beginning to think that we were wrong. Maybe the wife and daughter weren't killed here after all.

"So…did the ghosts just appear in front of you and William when you went down the hill?" Eliza asked.

"Yeah. Just out of thin air," I crossed my arms and glanced around nervously. Was there a chance that they would reform before tomorrow night?

"Living people walking straight over their dead bodies probably stirred the spirits," Eliza said this in a completely uncloaked and raw fashion. "Oh, don't look at me like that. It's the grim nature of the job. I mean, if someone was walking over my corpse, I'd be upset."

Toby paused with the shovel. "That couldn't have been enough to stir the ghosts, could it? They feed off emotion, too. You two weren't particularly angry or sad, were you?"

I searched back to when we were attacked. I didn't feel angry or sad, but restless. I wanted to escape the hill very suddenly.

"No…"

"I didn't really feel that emotional either," William added hastily.

"Really?" Eliza put her hands in her pockets, a ponderous look on her face. "Maybe it was the fact that the sun was just coming down and you two waltzed across their corpses."

"Yeah. That's probably it." I watched Toby continue digging. He was knee-deep in the hole, and the dirt was being flung aside was forming a large pile.

This went on until the shovel made a loud clinking sound, as if it impacted something solid. That sent a chill up my spine.

I knew we'd fine them. But it's always a shock; it doesn't matter if you're the youngest agent, or the dustiest supervisor, it always made you tingle from head-to-toes. Knowing that what you were looking at was once a living, breathing creature, whom felt all the things that you feel; it still was chilling.

I stiffened, but as a regular person might do when uncovering human remains, I didn't run away to the other side of the estate in terror.

Toby hesitated, but then began to dig a little more. He soon uncovered the full, grim picture of a long, hidden crime.

We stared down at the contents; one was a larger set of bones and dirt-laced hair. She wore the same Victorian gown as the apparitions that attacked me and William.

The other took of my heart with more force. It was a smaller skeleton, and I could tell she had auburn hair, once long and luxurious. I pictured her as a young girl, wild and free, the world still a beautiful thing yet to be explored. Now she was reduced to this thing of bones, hair, and dirt.

"Right…" Toby stepped out of the pit and brushed off some dirt from his knees. "I suppose we should get on with it."

I could tell that even he was chilled by our findings. But nevertheless, we got on with the job and did the usual things to make it safe.

We poured salt and chucked in plenty of lavender and salt, and I got the unfortunate job of wrapping the corpses in a swirl of iron chains.

We poured in enough defenses to silence the most powerful Wraith, and then covered up the bodies again.

After that, we all made our way back to the mansion and hurried on home for the night.

The following morning, I sat by the kitchen table, staring at my bowl of cereal with distaste. I stirred my spoon in the milk, my mind drifting to other matters.

After cases, I often became a bit misty and faraway. The memory haunted me more than the actual apparitions. The ghosts didn't bother me, I felt no sympathy for the Visitors. But the people? The ones they once were?

That messed with me.

My colleagues knew this as well. Eliza threw me a careful, inspecting glance.

"Are you alright, Maddie?" She raised an eyebrow at me.

"I'm fine, really," I looked up and pushed back all weariness, and brightened my expression. I shoved the image of the skeleton-girl, with her long auburn hair half-covered in dirt, and her blackened flesh that clung to hollow cheeks…I pushed it away. "So, what's the schedule for today?"

Toby looked happy that I asked that question, because it provided a distraction from emotions. "Well, two cases, both rather interesting, actually. I suppose Mr. Lionsworth's request did us a lot of favors."

That was true; we had generous mentions in several newspapers.

"What are the cases?" William asked.

"One's a dark, sinister shape seen in a couple's attic. They say their son, about 15 years old, saw what appears to be a Phantasm. The couple weakened it with iron, but they need an agent to hunt down the Source," Toby looked around at us.

"The other?"

"A hunched, bloodied thing that limps along the halls of a large church on Wimbledon Street. Probably a Limbless," Toby said. "Two of us will take either case. So…who wants the Phantasm?"

"I'll take it," I said immediately. I didn't feel like facing a terrifying creature such as a Limbless. A Phantasm was just dark and indistinct without a detailed shape, and I'd have enough of grim images for now.

"I'll go with Maddie," William said, pushing forward a plate of freshly-made biscuits to the center of the table.

Toby nodded. "Right. So, Eliza, I suppose we'll take care of th—"

"Actually," Eliza stood up from her chair. "I can't. I'm busy today."

Toby looked thoroughly surprised. "It's not a free day, Eliza. I really need you on this case."

"I'm taking a vacation day. I've given up nearly all my weekends this month to help out with a case," Eliza was already grabbing her coat.

"Wait a second," I said. "Where are you going? Can't you at least tell us?"

"I'm having lunch with someone," Eliza said stiffly as she made her way past Toby and towards the hallway.

"As in like a date?" I poured about a gallon of surprise in my voice.

To be honest, I never really got the chance to get to know Eliza. I wouldn't know if she was a double-agent working for the government, let alone know of her personal relations.

Eliza stopped, I could tell she was wondering how to respond. "Yes, like a date—no, shut up, don't say anything." Eliza was brave; she wasn't afraid to admit she was seeing someone.

William and Toby were looking at her, their eyes like small moons.

"And who is this person we know nothing about?" Toby said at last.

"No one important. I'll be back before Curfew." And with that, she brushed past into the hallway.

I wasn't having any secrets. I stood up from my chair, followed Eliza out the kitchen where she was paused, and poised to open the door handle. I beat her to it.

I was fairly sure that the person was picking Eliza up, because a half-second before I flung it open I heard an interrupted knock.

And before me stood Melody Ferngarden.

 **You have no idea how much I cringed while writing and editing this...but whatever. I think the next chapter's longer than this one, so yeah.**


	8. Chapter 8 - Heartbeat

**This chapter's pretty short, but I think the next one's long. Not sure, though.**

 **(And to the guest viewer, thanks for pointing that out. I honestly don't know why I capitalized it.) Enjoy! Or don't, you know. Whatever.**

 **Oh, and P.S., this chapter has mentions of girl x girl. Don't like it? Skip this chapter.**

CHAPTER 8

For a moment, I stood there, eyes narrowed in confusion. I wondered if I had forgotten to return my small collection of science-fiction novels, or if Melody Ferngarden came by to give us a package that had been delivered to her doorstep by mistake.

But she looked shocked to see me, and she had no package.

Toby and William were unable to deny their curiosity and were already at my shoulders like two nosy owls.

"Er…" Melody Ferngarden shook herself and stared around at us. Then she got over a surprise and reached out a hand. "Hello, I'm Melody Ferngarden."

William and I shuffled back so Toby could shake Melody's hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Ferngarden," Toby said carefully. I could tell he was confused as well.

Melody Ferngarden smiled, showing pretty white teeth. "Please, call me Melody."

"Look, I should really get going now," Eliza was flashing her bewildered gaze between her colleagues and Melody.

"Eliza, are you going on a date with Melody?" The question slipped out of my mouth before I could stop.

Melody cleared her throat and Eliza looked down at the ground.

"Yes," Eliza said. "She's my girlfriend."

Right then, I was slammed with realization. I blinked and stared at them. I would have kept staring all day if Toby hadn't cleared his throat.

"Well, it's been a pleasure to meet you, Melody. We hope we haven't bothered you by keeping you here."

Melody's smile broadened. "It's no bother at all," Then her leafy gaze flickered over towards me. "I hope you enjoyed those novels. They're my personal favorites."

I didn't get to reply. Melody and Eliza had already turned away and were crossing the street together.

The door shut, cutting off the view of the streets.

I looked at the ground. Eliza and Melody? How did I not know about any this?

William spoke at last. "So," He said, "Eliza's…"

"Yeah." I glanced at him. "And Melody Ferngarden…together."

"Hey, what a second. Maddie, it seemed that Melody knew you?" William looked at me.

"Yes, how did you know her?..." Toby had a slightly conflicted expression on his face; as if something surprising had popped up, disturbing some sort of elaborate plan.

"I didn't date her, if that's what you're thinking," I said flatly. "I just borrowed some books from the library that she owns."

William leaned against the sofa. "Oh. Well."

"Right," Toby re-adjusted his coat. "Eliza's personal affairs aren't any of our business. But ghost-hunting is—I can't go on that case with the Limbless alone. Who's best with shapeless apparitions here?"

William glanced away; he was the best at barely-visible ghosts, because he had the sharpest Sight among us. So spotting a deadly cloud of darkness, or otherwise, a Phantasm, would be easier for him.

And yet, I also felt slightly anxious about him fighting an angry Phantasm alone. Ever since we were attacked by the pair of Visitors, I'd been subconsciously afraid that the idiot would end up getting himself killed.

I remembered those few moments, when I sat there, in the dark, my heart pounding in my chest, staring down at William's unmoving form. Then I pushed those thoughts away. William would be fine. He was capable and trained.

"I guess that leaves me," I really had been hoping not to face any gruesome, bloody and torn-fleshed creatures for at least two days. But there wasn't anything else I could do. Ever since the night after the Lotterbox Case, I made a silent resolution to try my very best not to oppose Toby.

"Okay, then," William clapped his hands together and regained his balance from leaning against the sofa. "I'll gather my equipment—want me to grab yours, Mad? I think you left your workbelt and duffel bag in the basement."

I nodded. "Thanks."

William melted away into the shadows of the hall, and then slipped into the basement.

While he was gone, I looked down at my feet and fumbled with my coat buttons. I found that when not closely inspecting and pinpointing all the things that Toby did that annoyed me, I didn't really have much to talk about with him.

"So…" I said. "Eliza. Did you know?"

Toby's gaze drew up sharply, like he was sleeping and I just slapped him awake. "No, not really. I don't like looking into the business of others."

I nodded slowly, biting on my lip slightly. "Yes, yes. Of course."

"How are you, Madeline?" Toby ran a hand through unruly black hair as he spoke; his eyes were suddenly serious and concerned. "After those two ghosts. You looked shaken all morning."

To be honest, finding out that one of my friends had a secret girlfriend without me ever knowing, had shooed away my dark thoughts about the murdered apparitions for a while.

"I'm fine. It's just the physic echoes. They'll go away," Even as I spoke, I pictured the daughter and the mother; their happy lives, content, not ever suspecting that they would be betrayed by their family and murdered.

"You're doing it again." Toby was frowning at me.

"Doing what?"

"That weird thing you do with your eyes. When you're thinking of something sad."

Luckily, the loud jangling of workbelts and duffel bags coming from the basement saved me from a reply.

William emerged into the hallway, carrying one hefty duffel bag in one hand, and my workbelt flung over his shoulder. He had a rapier held tightly against his side as he staggered towards us.

I hurriedly removed the workbelt from his shoulder and plucked my rapier away. "William! You could have dropped a magnesium flare—look how lose its hanging," I gestured to the canister of Greek fire which was slipping from a pouch attached to my belt. I clipped my workbelt around my waste, and then slid my rapier into the sheathe.

"Not only that, your sword nearly stabbed me in the side a few times," William let the duffel bag drop softly to the floor and then hugged his side.

"Oh, you're fine," Toby said. "I called ahead for a cab—William, your case is at 44 Lonedwarf St, the one in Wimbleton—it's a big Victorian house, can't miss it," He rushed out the last words while opening the door and slipped away.

I hesitated, and grabbed my duffel bag that William reached out to give me.

I looked up at him, in that moment, and felt a prick of disappointment. Spending a day fighting ghosts with William sounded more appealing than being ordered around by Toby.

Suddenly William leaned forward and did the last thing I expected him to do. He kissed me. I had no clue what was going on in that moment, but my heart was beating so fast and loud that I thought it would leap out of my chest.

He pulled away after a moment. I stared at him, he stared at me. "Be careful," He said quietly.

It took me a second to find my voice. "I will."

William opened his mouth to say more, but Toby's voice sounded from beyond the door, beckoning me away.

I gazed at William for another moment, then turned and fled out the door.

Toby was waiting for me by the cab. "What took so long?"

I was too warm and tingly to even glance at Toby. "Nothing. Let's go."

The church we were paying a visit two could be summed up in two words; large and creaky.

I suppose it was around a hundred years old as well.

It's fair to say that spending the night at an old, haunted church wasn't exactly at the top of my to-do list.

But nevertheless, as we walked up the pavement to knock and two great wooden, medieval-looking doors, I pushed back all hesitation.

"Right," Toby straightened his coat. "Remember the rules…which are?"

"No arguing," I said, "No running off alone, and no engaging with the apparition alone."

"Good," Toby looked satisfied. "And new rule —no staring off into space. You've been doing that a lot."

"What?" My mind snapped back into the present, sharpened by indignity. "How does that matter when it comes to handling Visitors?"

"You can't be distracted," Toby said. "I don't want the Limbless ambushing you while your head's somewhere else."

"Oh, like I'm the distracted one! All you do is—" My voice was cut off.

"Rule one, Madeline. You're already breaking it."

I blew out my cheeks and regained my temper. "Right…sorry. No arguing."

Toby smiled. "I was just kidding, you know. You're acting differently around me. Like each time you reply you're biting your tongue."

"Isn't that better than me arguing?" I narrowed my eyes and shoved my fists into my coat pockets as I spoke.

"Well, not particularly. Don't feel so guarded around me, Maddie. I'm not going to throw you out of the agency because of some bickering." Toby said.

I glanced at him. At least now I wouldn't have to be as cautious around him. But, still, heading into an old haunted church with Toby at my side, made my stomach churn uneasily.

I knew nothing about him. He wasn't exactly my favorite person in the world, either. That didn't mean I hated him, of course. I just wasn't as close to him as Eliza, or William…

I cleared my thoughts. The large wooden doors swung open so suddenly that I jumped a bit.

An elderly man in a pastor's clothes stood before us; he had a pale face, with many wrinkles surrounding the mouth and sagging around the eyes. He smiled at us.

"Welcome, Mr. Gallenhood!" He said, "And is this Miss Sorrem?"

"Actually, no, Father, this is Madeline Frost. I'm afraid Eliza Sorrem couldn't make herself available for this case," Toby smiled politely at the preacher.

The man gave a nod of acknowledgment. "Ah, shame—where are my manners? I am Father Wesley Silas. Welcome to the Whitewood Lane St. Church."

 **i CRINGED SO MUCH. I apologize to anyone reading this. I'll go slink back into a hole now. But, yeah. Hoped you liked it. :)**


	9. Chapter 9 - Broken

**This is a pretty long chapter, so enjoy! Or, you know, don't, I guess?**

 **Guest viewer: Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. As for ship names, I honestly have no idea how that would work. Their names don't really cooperate. But thank you for the support! :)**

CHAPTER 9

The Whitewood Lane St. Church was a traditional Catholic church, with dark oak paneling and plain white walls. Great wooden beams crossed over my head, half-hidden in the darkness. Colorful glass murals featuring important events that occurred in the Bible were at my left and right. Rows of seats were parted by a narrow walkway, and viewing it all was a wooden pulpit where the preacher would speak.

I viewed it all with faint interest. I had never been a very religious person, as my family was primarily atheistic.

"This church was built in 1837 by a Rupert Whitewood—the street and church is named after him," Father Silas began to brush over the history of the church, but I was barely listening. "I know little of a traumatic event that has occurred here over the years, so I cannot inform you of something extraordinarily useful."

"Do you have any insights on the apparition?" Toby asked politely.

"Ah," Father Silas frowned. I could tell he was uncomfortable discussing the grim details of a Limbless. He straightened his collar. "The youngest members of our cleaning staff here have reported a 'vile creature slumped on the floors and dragging itself across the walkway and towards the pulpit'. I am an adult, of course, so I have never seen the Visitor myself."

Toby nodded slowly. "Of course, yes…thank you. We will deal with this as quietly as we can."

Father Silas smiled faintly. "Oh, I've heard things about agents, Mr. Gallenhood. I know many possible outcomes. I simply wish for your safety."

"Thank you," I said. "We are very well-trained. The matter will be dealt with swiftly and expertly."

"You're a confident young woman. Thank you. I'm afraid I must leave soon before night falls. Is there any other questions that you require?" The preacher asked us.

"No, no. We understand this perfectly."

"Then I will leave. Good luck, and may the Lord watch over you."

The man hobbled down the narrow walkway, the huge wooden doors opened and then closed loudly.

Soft candlelight around us flickered and shadows danced across the church walls. Toby and I were completely silent; but we weren't just standing around doing nothing.

I was pushing my Talent to its full extent, mentally expanding my vision to all corners of the church.

This went on for a while. We still stood there, highlighted in the darkness only by a dying, flickering candlelight.

Toby looked at me. "Hear anything?"

"Yes."

"Like?"

"A scraping noise," I said carefully. "Like something dragging itself across the floor."

"That would the Limbless, then," Toby said, tightening his coat a bit and re-adjusting his work belt. "Right. First, we make a safe haven to retreat to—then we wait for the apparition, destroy it, and then search for the Source."

I nodded. That was the usual way cases went. I began to pull the iron chains from the duffel bag and laid down a large circle in front of the wooden stand.

Toby watched half-heartedly. I could tell he was still trying to use his Talent to pick up anything on the ghost.

I brushed off the salt-dust from my fingers; I coated the iron in some salt and lavender fillings just in case. "I still can't sense anything," He said at last.

I paused, still standing by the chains, using my inner-ear again. "The dragging noise is getting louder for me," I said. "Louder…It's really close now."

Toby glanced at me, brushed away his coat to place his hand on his rapier. "Okay…but I still don't see it." He frowned. "Or hear it. Are you sure that's what you're hearing?"

"Of course I am," I said sharply. "I'm not crazy."

Toby didn't say anything. He was staring at a huge glass mural—of which Biblical scene, I didn't know.

I frowned and followed him over. The candlelight flickered. The dragging noise had retreated.

"What are you staring at?" I asked.

"Nothing…it's just…I've been to this church before." Toby said.

I blinked. I didn't really perceive Toby as a religious person. "What? When?"

"With my mother…she was Catholic. Took me here a few times."

"You just now remembered?"

"I was a little kid, Maddie. But I guess the murals sparked a memory."

I stared at the colorful glass pieces—they looked so mismatched up close, but a few feet away it all joined together as a beautiful picture.

"You don't talk about your family often," I said at last, the dragging sound now pushed to the back of my mind.

Toby straightened himself; the wistful look on his face melted away into a business-like expression. "I don't? I always thought of myself as an open person. Right. Let's get back to—" He never got to finish that sentence.

All of a sudden, charging back into focus was the dragging noise, now much louder as if it was just creeping up past my heels.

I whipped around, rapier in hand. Only a few inches away from me was a bloodied, stump-like creature worming its way across the polished mahogany flooring, leaving a trail of scarlet goo in its wake. It's face was a disheveled mess of drooping flesh like a melting ice-cream cone. It's mouth was agape, showing stained blackened teeth. It's one eye rolled and it let out a deep groan as it slithered towards me.

Toby and I let out matching screams of shock and horror as we faced the creature, and as it reached out towards us, we fell back against the giant glass mural with twin whelps.

The one thing I remembered in that moment was terror. The creature's face, the instant, deafening need to escape it's presence…and the painful sensation of glass scraping against my skin, and the sound of something shattering.

I caught a glimpse of Toby's face as we fell backwards, smashing against the fragile mural; pale, contorted with terror and gray eyes glistening and wide in the moonlight; his hands outstretched as we fell as if he was about to embrace the Limbless before we stumbled backwards.

A shard of glass flew forward and slid across my knee; I let out a full-on scream of pain. Imagine throwing a large rock through your window and then waltzing among the remains of it. That's what it felt like.

Although, it was probably a better alternative than the Limbless. No, if we stayed within its grasp a moment longer, we would be ghost-touched for sure.

I wasn't really focusing on the bright side of things, though, laying on a bed of glass and my knee pouring blood.

My eyes rolled upwards. I pushed back the searing pain. Above I saw a dark blue sky, highlighted by a million white stars and the giant silver moon. How unfortunate that they had to witness our moment of clumsiness.

I blinked and caught ahold of my sanity. I threw a glance beside me; Toby was laying there, one arm draped across his forehead. He had several cuts across his cheek and forehead, and a long gash across his right arm.

"Toby," I said, sitting up. "Toby."

Toby blinked awake, now acutely aware as always. He sat up and brushed some glass of his chest. "What?"

"We broke the mural."

"Yes. We did."

I stared at the huge gap in the church wall; some small fragments of the picture remained, but the rest was gone.

"We're idiots."

"I agree."

I shook my head and a shard of green-stained glass fell from my hair. All of a sudden, my agent training came flooding back into consciousness, now reflecting my movements and voice.

"We still have to deal with the Limbless," I said. "And seal the Source. Otherwise, we destroyed that beautiful picture for nothing."

"No."

"What?"

"No. Look at us, Maddie. We've got cuts everywhere. I've still got a shard of glass lodged into my leg. Our safety comes before sealing the Source." Toby looked at me.

I snorted. "Since when? It's the complete reverse when being an agent, isn't it?"

"In the moment, yes. But now we're away from the ghost, and I'd be a terrible leader to let you go back in there with all those cuts." Toby brushed off one last piece of shimmering glass from his shoulder as he spoke.

I sighed. I glanced around us; we were in the depths of night, most people would have retreated to their homes by now. Not us. The scene stuck out against the rows of houses, shops, the quiet. Glass was everywhere, surrounding us. I was lucky enough not to have a piece lodged into my skin.

"You're really hurt," I said. "Did you bring the first-aid kit?"

Toby nodded, smiling ruefully. "Eliza never lets us leave without one."

Eliza. I hadn't really thought about her, I'd been so distracted. The thought of her giving a thorough scolding when we arrived back home made me smile slightly. I guess that reaction was a response to being in shock.

"Is it in the duffel bag?" I asked.

Toby nodded hesitantly. "Yeah."

I narrowed my eyes. "The duffel bag is inside the church, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Great. You're a genius, Toby," I sighed, attempted to get to my feet, and then winced. The cut on my leg was deep, but I could still retrieve the bag.

"What are you doing?" Toby was trying to stand up now, but failed.

"There's a little flip-phone in the first-aid kit," I said. "We can't patch ourselves up. We need a hospital."

Toby frowned. "I'll get it."

"No, you won't," I said sharply, already beginning to limp across the sea of shattered, shining transparent matter. "Not with a shard of Virgin Mary's nose lodged in your leg."

At that moment, I thought Toby smiled, but he looked away. "You have a point…but if you're not back in 30 seconds, I'm coming after you."

"I'll be back in 20," I promised, and then carefully stepped over the broken the mural. The Limbless had retreated, too bound to its Source to wonder outside the church. It wouldn't return for a few more minutes.

I searched among the rows of wooden seats, the tall wooden stand and the narrow walkway. There.

Leaning against the wooden pulpit was a large red duffel bag with multi-colored patches sewn into the material to keep it from falling apart.

I limped towards it and dug around the contents for a while. Then I found the plastic case, full and ready for use.

I plucked it from the bag and made my way back to Toby. He was still in the same position, his face faintly grimacing with pain as if he was making a deep effort to move.

I carefully plucked away the shards of glass and threw them away, making a clear spot for the both of us. Then I knelt beside Toby, opened the first-aid kit, and stared at its contents.

There. A little gray flip-phone was tucked away next to the bandages. I grabbed it and then dialed the nearby hospital.

I had a short conversation with a receptionist, informing her of our situation. A few minutes later, two DEPRAC officials were parked outside the church, a single ambulance by their side.

Four Rotwell agents were there, too. Surveying us with uppity amusement before assessing the apparition inside.

I was questioned about my experience here by a female DEPRAC agent as my wounds were treated.

"Did the Limbless take you by surprise?" The woman questioned.

"Yes," I flinched; a bandage was being wrapped around my leg.

"But you reported to your team leader about the psychic disturbance you sensed?" The woman asked.

"I did. We were setting up the chains but we were distracted for a few moments."

"Distracted?"

"Talking—it's not very important."

The woman, gray-faced and unsmiling, frowned at me. "I think I've collected enough information. After you've been properly treated, I will send a DEPRAC police vehicle to send you home."

"What about Toby? Where is he?" I craned my neck to get a glimpse of him; somewhat far away, behind crowds of reporters, DEPRAC officers and Rotwell agents, he was sitting inside an ambulance, being questioned by a tall man in a black jacket.

"Mr. Gallenhood requires more careful medical attention," The woman told me. "He's to be transported to the hospital after questioning."

"Is there something wrong with him?"

"If what you mean is if his life's threatened, then, no. But the piece of glass lodged in his leg does need special care. He'll stay at the hospital for no longer than three hours, I think."

After that, the woman left to speak with her colleagues and I was taken back to Ivywood Lane, battered, body stinging with pain, but otherwise okay.

I limped out of the DEPRAC van, slowly and painfully, calculating the length of my scolding from Eliza. The lights of the house were still on, so I assumed they weren't asleep.

I opened the door and walked through the hallway, hoping to escape up the stairs and into my bedroom without being spotted. But no such luck.

Eliza and William were waiting for me in the kitchen the moment I tried to limp past them.

"Maddie!" William jumped up from his chair, and I froze.

"Hey, guys," I turned to face them, much to my muscles' protesting.

"What…" Eliza shook her head, arms folded as if she didn't know where to start. "I just don't understand…where's Toby?"

"At the hospital."

 _"What?!"_

"It's not as bad as you think," I said. "He's just got some glass in his leg."

"And that's not bad?" Eliza demanded. I flinched under her gaze, and glanced away at the clock hanging above the refrigerator.

"He's not dead."

William shook his head, as if confused. "I'm sorry...what happened to cut you up like that?"

I would have shuffled my feet uncomfortably, but that would have triggered too much pain. "The case didn't go according to plan...we were jumped by the Limbless and fell backwards on that old mural of their's."

"Shattered it to pieces?" William guessed. I just gave a sheepish nod.

Eliza stared at me. Her eyes were cold and flinty. "You... _what?_ "

"It's not that bad, really!" I said defensively. Or, at least, it could have been worse.

"You two shattered a 70 year-old stained glass mural!" Eliza cried. "Right when we finally have good publicity, you two instantly mess it up! What did you do this time, Maddie? What did you decide to argue about?"

I folded my arms together and stomped my foot angrily against the floor. "I didn't argue about anything! We were looking at the mural and talking, then the Limbless crept up on us! We fell through. That's it."

"Why don't we just calm down for a momen—" Eliza cut William off.

"Talking! When you knew the Limbless was coming? I just don't understand. You two destroy everything in your wake." Eliza said scornfully.

"That's not my fault!" I said. "Maybe if you decided to go with Toby instead of dumping it on me this wouldn't have happened! You know we don't work well together."

"This isn't a matter of 'not working well together'. Not this time. It's just you two being complete idiots!"

"That's not what you just said!"

"Alright you two, shut up already," William spoke loudly, his eyes shadowed and stern. "Arguing won't do any good."

I didn't even glance at him. To be honest, I had no idea how to react to William now.

"William, if you don't mind, I'm in the middle of telling off Madeline," Eliza said.

"The last thing Maddie needs is scolding," William said. "We can talk about this after Toby gets back from the hospital. Right now, how about some food?"

William didn't wait for a reply. He walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed a box of pizza and then set it on the table. "It's Papa John's," He said. Eliza was still glowering at me. "Oh come on, just forget the argument and enjoy this pizza."

I sighed and looked away. "Food does sound good."

William smiled. "I'll heat you up a piece, Mad."

I smiled slightly, settling down into a chair. Then I immediately thought of Toby and the church, and my grin faded away into a faraway look as I studied the lacy tablecloth.

Eliza was right. No matter how dry she made her argument, no matter how prickly or scornful the words, she made sense.

But she was wrong about something this time. Usually when I go on a case with Toby, I argue and put our lives in danger, as I expertly displayed with the Lotterbox Case. But at the church, we didn't argue. Okay, we did get jumped by a terrifying Limbless and destroyed a 70 year-old stained glass mural, but we didn't argue.

The microwave gave a beep, barging into my thoughts. I looked up; William grabbed a paper plate and handed me the slice of steaming-hot pepperoni pizza.

"I'm not hungry." Eliza said. She had settled down into a chair across from me.

"Suit yourself," William had already plopped two pieces of pizza onto his plate. "I'm starving."

I stared down at the table again and began to absent-mindedly tap the rhythm of a song I heard on the radio a few days ago.

After a while, we all just sat at the table and silently ate our food.

"So," William said brightly, "How is everyone?"

"That's a bit of a lame question," Eliza muttered. She was glancing down at her watch, looking agitated. "Maddie, how long is Toby supposed to stay at the hospital?"

"Three hours, but now I think it's about two."

"Okay."

I bite into my pizza, staring blankly at the table again. The clock ticked. We sat in silence.

I won't say we all sat around the table for two hours doing nothing. Eliza had pulled out her notebook from a nearby drawer and began to scribble down words. William kept eating his pizza.

My science-fiction novel, almost finished, was sitting on the table. I pulled it over and began to read.

Although, I was finding it considerably hard to concentrate on the book.

William caught my eye and smiled; I smiled back for a moment then looked away.

Eliza raised an eyebrow at me. "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing."

I kept my eyes averted from William and resumed my book; pages flipped, paragraphs passed, chapters faded away into the final acknowledgements.

All the while, the clock ticked steadily. William finished his pizza, threw away the plate, and then started to sketch something.

It's amazing how quickly two hours can go by. I didn't spend the entire time sitting in a chair in the kitchen; I got up to retrieve the second novel after finishing the first.

The second novel was simply an engrossing fictional tale, one that kept me buried into its depths for quite a while.

Finally, I set it down, and glanced across the table at Eliza; she was staring down at a newspaper. "Anything interesting?"

She paused. ** _"'Psychic investigative agency, Lockwood & Co., uncovers and naturalized Source of the legendary Brixton Cannibal. Penelope Fittes, chairwoman of the large Fittes Agency, remarks 'It's an astounding deed accomplished by London's smallest agency.' The teem faced incredible challenges while hunting down the Source in a local disused tube station. Lucy Joan Carlyle, key psychic investigator on the case comments, 'We're lucky to make it out alive'. See full Lockwood interview pages 1-3.'"_**

"The Brixton Cannibal?" I stared across at her. "They neutralized it? Smallest agency in London?"

"Yes," Eliza said frowningly. "That's just the kind of flawless publicity our own agency is in desperate need of."

I sighed and stared down at my novel. It suddenly appeared a bit grayer. "I really am sorry," I said. "We shouldn't have gotten distracted. It really was a dumb thing to do."

Eliza put down her thin-framed reading glasses on the table and abandoned the newspaper. "Yes, quite stupid of you. But this was going to happen anyways, no matter what—every agency makes a mistake. It's simply unavoidable. I know you're a brilliant agent, Maddie, just like Toby is. We'll get past some bad publicity."

I looked down. I kept hearing those same reassuring words; "Don't worry. You're a good agent, Maddie." But was it true? Let's see, over the past week I've nearly fallen off a building with no solid explanation, then promptly nearly gotten me and my colleagues killed by stirring up a Poltergeist; and then, I destroyed a 70 year-old glass mural in a church. Was that being a good agent?

What positive qualities have I displayed so far? The last successful case I remember, in which I was a prominently skillful and obedient agent was months ago. Now all of a sudden, I'm stubborn and argumentative.

"I'm going upstairs," I announced. Without waiting for a single comment, I stood up from my chair and stalked out of the kitchen and into the hall, and began to climb the stairs.

 _Knock, knock._

I turned; in the darkness, something sounded from the door. I paused, poised to march up the stairs, but then turned and walked slowly across the hallway.

My hand clasped the door handle that seemed cold as frost. With a flick of my wrist, the doorknob turned and the door pulled aside to reveal Toby Gallenhood, disheveled, cuts all over his face and arms; supported by two crutches. All this was illuminated by a flickering ghost-lamp that was hanging across the street.

"Hi," Toby said.

"Toby," I stared at him; the torn coat and shirt,sliced by shards of glass and about twenty small cuts running across his cheek and arms. "You're…"

"I know. Not the best I've been…do you think I can come in?"

I held the door open and he limped inside. Just behind him, before I shut the door, I could see a DEPRAC van driving away.

By now, Eliza and William were shuffling out of the kitchen and emerging into the hallway. Eliza spotted Toby immediately, her eyes widening.

"Toby!" She rushed forward and inspected him; gazing at the crutches he used to support himself.

"Falling through a glass mural didn't do you any favors, did it?" William said.

"No, sadly not," Toby limped along the hallway and then leaned against the kitchen doorway. He frowned and sniffed the air. "Is that pizza?"

"Yeah." I said.

"That's what you all do when I'm gone." Toby hesitated. "Is there any left?"

Eliza nodded. "I'll heat you up a few slices. Then you need to explain everything." She brushed past him.

Toby looked at me. "Did you already get a scolding?"

"Yes."

"So it's my turn." He smiled. "That case didn't exactly go according to plan, did it?"

"Not by the sound of it," William said. "Eliza's livid."

"I suppose she should be," I sighed and shook my head. "We really messed up."

"Oh, it's not that bad," Toby shifted on his crutches as he spoke, like an ironic gesture. "Just some glass, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, a 70 year-old glass mural," I snorted. "Not a big deal at all. I bet Father Silas is already consulting his attorney."

"Father Silas?" William frowned.

"The guy who runs the church. A priest."

"Do you really think a priest will sue us?"

"You never know."

A beeping sound rang out through the walls, and Toby began to slowly make his way into the kitchen, slinking into his chair with a painful grunt.

I sat across from him, Eliza on his left-hand side, and William directly across from me.

Toby picked up a slice of steaming hot pepperoni pizza and bit into it. Swallowing, he said, "Well…what are you going to say?"

"You're a bloody idiot," Eliza declared. "That was incredibly stupid of both of you. Can you please explain why you stopped in the middle of setting up chains when you knew the Limbless was coming?"

Toby bit into another piece of pizza, taking his fine time to reply. Even with many cuts sliced across his skin, with two crutches resting against his chair, his hair dusty and slightly bloody, he looked unconcerned. "It was a bit unintelligent of me, I admit. But it was either shattering some glass or facing certain ghost-touch. I think that in the moment, we did what we needed to do to save our lives."

"Hold on—your fault? Not only you. Maddie here did a fair share. And that's not excuse," Eliza was glaring at him now. "That doesn't explain why you stopped all of a sudden."

"You're right about that," Toby said reluctantly. "But it wasn't Madeline's fault. I'm team leader, and everything that went down in that church was my responsibility. I was being distracted, and Maddie came to see what I was doing. I was dumb. Let's move on and focus on rebuilding our reputation."

William ran a hand through unruly brown hair. "How many times will we have to rebuild our reputation? It seems we don't have a good name for more than a week."

"It does seem that way," Eliza admitted quietly.

I looked down and fumbled with my hands.

"Yes, I know," Toby spoke in a resigned and exhausted tone now; I always felt annoyance towards Toby, now I felt a jab of pity and admiration. I never realized what it must feel like to be responsible for us, for this agency. "We need to establish some new rules." He announced.

"What kind of rules?" I looked up sharply.

"Ones that refrain us all from being reckless," Toby said. He pushed away his now-empty plate. "From now on, we properly discuss a case an plan it out—such as, which agents will be on that case, and if it involves any Type Two, we research it."

I nodded slowly. That seemed smart.

"And an agent being unavailable abruptly cannot be tolerable anymore," Toby added. "If you're going to take a day or two off, tell me in advance."

"Okay," We all murmured.

"And please, I'll pair the agents depending on what kind of case we have."

That last part didn't really appeal to me. There he was, taking complete control. I pushed back the thoughts. And Toby should. He's leader.

"Is that all?" William asked.

Toby paused, then nodded. "It is. Eliza, do we have any future cases?"

As a reply, Eliza pulled out our casebook from the nearby china cabinet and scrolled through the inky pages. "One tomorrow, two the next day. First one's about a wispy shape seen behind a house in Whitechapel. The others are a tad bit more interesting. One's a woman in a flowing gown roaming around someone's property. The owner says he's hired agents to find the Source, but none can track down the Source of it."

"The last one?"

"Screaming coming from someone's basement. The owner's evacuated the home because the noise became so violent." Eliza's gaze fluctuated between us all, almost playful and eager, like she was daring us to do something dangerous.

"A Screaming Spirit," I said.

Toby nodded. "That's what it sounds like. William, since you're practically tone-deaf with Visitors, the Screaming Spirit won't affect you that much, so you'll go on that one," That was correct. Screaming Spirits weren't particularly aggressive, but they could kill you by the high-pitched yowls they emitted. But if you could withstand the sound, you'd be okay. "Eliza, you take the basement one, you're good working inside houses. Maddie and I will investigate the woman in the gown."

"Er, Toby," William said hesitantly, gesturing towards the crutches leaning against Toby's chair, "I think you're forgetting something. All's well with the planning, that's great…but I don't think you'll recover enough in two days to go on a case."

Eliza nodded in stern agreement. "He's right. In fact, you both need to rest. What did the doctor say, Toby?"

Toby looked down and tapped his fingers on the tabletop. "Two weeks."

"Blimey," said William, frowning.

"And you, Maddie, I'm guessing a week before you're fit to prance around." Eliza sighed like she was frustrated and shook her head. She went on, her voice sweepingly brief, "That means only two people."

"Honestly, I can walk," I said. Technically, this wasn't false; I could walk, but it was a painful experience. And if I could barely walk, how could I be well enough to fight a dangerous apparition?

"No, you can't, and neither can Toby," Eliza said flatly, then went on, "William can still deal with the Screaming Spirits, and I'll take the wispy shape. Then when I get back home, we can leave to deal with the woman in the flowing gown."

"Two cases in one day?" I stared at her and fidgeted in my chair. A heavier stone of guilt was weighing down in my stomach. William and Eliza would be exhausted for a while thanks to me and Toby's foolishness.

"Yes," Eliza sat back, staring into space, as if contemplating how bleak things seemed at the moment. But that look only lasted a moment, and the determined gleam in her eyes returned. "It'll be fine. The wispy shape's in the morning, and the other case is in the afternoon."

Toby and I sat in silence. I felt like a kid, when I bothered my mother too much and she ended up stressed. I'd feel guilty. That's exactly how I felt now.

"Sounds fine to me," William said brightly. "I'm off to bed. Can't stay up tonight." He got up and walked past me, and a few moments later, I heard the sound of feet impacting the staircase.

I stood up, slowly and with plenty of effort. "I'm going as well," I said. "I'm really tired."

"Good night." Eliza was scribbling in the casebook and didn't look up at me as she spoke.

I echoed her words in a murmur then limped out of the kitchen and began to tackle the mountainous stairs. It was a great, painful challenge, and I felt as if my limbs were tearing themselves apart with every step.

Each cut stung constantly, sometimes just a faint buzz in the background, but always a displeasure. But the steps weren't endless, and I emerged into the corridor where all of our doors were.

I was slowly making my way across the threshold when I realized William was leaning against his own door, gazing at the ground in silence.

I paused and looked at him. "What's the matter?"

He looked up, almost startled. "Nothing. You should get some rest."

"Nothing doesn't make someone look like that." I said instead of opening my own door.

He smiled slightly, but it faded in a heartbeat. "You're right," William looked up. "I just…" William hesitated; I could tell he was searching for words. "I just realized that you could have died. I feel like you're constantly in danger, and I can't do anything about it."

"I'm an agent," I said gently. "No one can protect me," When he just looked at the ground, I added, "And there's no need to. Even if I mess up, I know how to take care of myself."

"Exactly."

"What?"

"You don't need anyone, Maddie. I don't have any doubt that you know how to survive and deal with Visitors. You won't ever need…" He frowned.

I shifted my feet. Darts of pain shot up my legs, but I found it hard to concentrate on that. The air seemed thick and stuffy.

"You won't ever need anyone." William finished.

Something stabbed me; it felt worse than the constant buzzing pain. It felt like being helplessly drowned. "You're wrong," Was all I could manage.

"Am I?" William shook his head sadly. "I don't think I am."

There was a stretch of silence. I felt it in my throat, I wanted to say something, but I couldn't push myself to do anything more than stare at the floor, completely unmoving and silent.

"Get some rest, Maddie," William said at last. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I didn't argue. I felt that I couldn't easily look at William in that moment, and didn't glance back at him as I swung my door open.

 **Aw, poor William...why did I write that? Anyways, I guess that's it for now. The next chapter will probably be out around next week. Constructive criticism and suggestions welcome!**


	10. Chapter 10 - Haunted

**Hey! Wow, chapter ten...time flies! And just a reminder for the ever-growing Lockwood fandom, only about a month until the Creeping Shadow's released! Jeez, I remember when it was five months away...those were dark times.**

 **Lover of Books:** Thank you! I pretty much appreciate your reviews as much as you appreciate the acknowledgements. And yes, I really wanted to have some inclusion of Lockwood & Co., and I plan on having more. I was quite evil with the last few paragraphs. Hopefully William and Madeline figure it out.

 **FairyPirate:** Hm, a love triangle? Well, yeah, I'm definitely planning _something_ like that.

 **CHAPTER 10**

The next morning went on in a slow, painful blur.

All I could recall about it was, as I lay in bed gazing up at the ceiling, is that William and Eliza were gone; each out on a different case while I was stuck here.

I felt useless, sitting there and doing nothing while my colleagues risked their lives.

And a new feeling of guilt and sadness had crept up into my heart. I remembered the bleak gleam in William's eyes…no. I couldn't think about that.

I glanced across the room, and my gaze rested on an old, battered paperback novel, one I had borrowed from the _Ferngarden Library_ a few days ago. _Maybe just a few pages…_ I thought.

Before I knew it, I was wiggling across the mattress. Once I was close enough to my nightstand, I reached out with a bandaged hand and grasped the novel, tugging it towards me.

Maybe it didn't seem like a huge accomplishment, but in that moment it was; my whole body was sore and stinging from having shards of glass sliced across it.

I leaned back against my pillow with a sigh and begin to dive into the pages.

Time ticked. Chapters swept by. All the while, I was confined to my room in a gloomy silence.

It felt like torture. I hated feeling useless and guilty. I didn't like other people paying for my mistakes.

In my frustration, I threw the book down, and, ignoring the intense pain circulating around my arms, tumbled out of bed.

I let out a hiss of discomfort, but I managed to walk across the room and open the door.

Out in the corridor, the house seemed completely silent. Toby was resting in his own room.

I crept down the stairs, quietly and slowly. I passed many decorations on my way, mostly paintings and snippets of newspapers that we had been praised in.

The downstairs floor felt-icy cold. I wondered along the hall and emerged into the living room.

The living room was empty, and that by itself seemed wrong. There was a hollow space where I felt my companions' voices and laughter should be.

I leaned against the back of a sofa and stared at the long table hugging the wall where all our trophies were proudly set.

The pirate's hook, a bloodied handkerchief, an old watch, the rusty dagger, and finally, the mysterious and beautiful silver pendant.

I tilted my head at the thing. It was hanging, suspended in the silver-glass case, silently taunting me.

I found myself traveling back a few days ago when William and I were readying our equipment for a case, and what he said; _"I'm not sure I'm the first agent…"_ What did that mean? Could there have been another person, perhaps Toby's first companion? If so, what happened to them?

I felt a sudden itch in my fingertips. In all the months of living here, I knew nothing of Toby Gallenhood. No one did. That wasn't fair. If Toby wasn't willing to share any answers, that was fine. I'd take them myself.

Without hesitation, and now, looking back at it, against my will, I grasped the silver-glass case in my hands and unclipped the top, each lock one-by-one.

It was daylight. If there was an apparition attached to the pendant, it wouldn't appear. Or at least, it shouldn't.

I set the case back on the table and carefully pulled the pendant out. It's touch was very cold and sent a shiver up my spine.

It dangled in front of me, glistening beautifully. I stared at the piece of jewelry for a moment, and then shut my eyes.

I cleared all irrelevant thoughts out of my mind and extended my senses.

For a while, there was nothing except silence and that unnatural feeling of absence.

Then, very quietly, I heard a sound; the sound of laughter. Soft and sweet, full-hearted, and joyful. A rush of contentment flowed through me. I felt so happy, almost as if my heart would burst.

The laughter faded away and melted into a voice; it belonged to a boy, I could distinguish that much, but I sounded to faraway for me to recognize. "We got a call," The voice said. "It's very important."

After that, a girl's voice spoke; she sounded very lively, and just hearing a single fragment of the sentence I knew she was a wild spirit, carefree and feisty, loving and loyal. "…Is that what it's about? Brilliant!"

Time must have skipped ahead since she said that, because now the boy spoke. "Ready? Rapier, chains, fillings? Flares?"

The girl laughed. "You're so worrisome. I'd sooner forget my head than my rapier, Toby."

Something clicked. I felt a cold stone weigh down in my belly.

"Seal the Source! Distract her—I'll get it!"

The clang of a sword, the impact of something smashing against brick, heavy steps dancing across creaky floorboards, and then the boy spoke again.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Let's go."

There was silence for a while, and for a moment I thought the vision had ended. But then the voices returned.

It wasn't joyous this time. There was no laughter, no sense of liveliness. The voices was tense and scared.

"H-How did it get in?" The boy said.

"I'm so sorry…this is all my fault!" The girl's voice rose and shook.

A screech. A scream. The sound of something falling, a thud. The slash of a rapier.

"Sarah…no…" That was the boy's voice; trembling and by the sound of it, on the brink of sobbing. "No…why didn't you listen to me? This is my fault!"

Then it all faded away. I knew it was over. I didn't put the pendant down. I felt empty and cold.

I remembered the beginning; the joy and laughter, the soft and warm feeling of being content. I felt a great pang of sorrow by recalling the feeling. I wanted to crumple to the floor and cry.

Why did I do that? Why did I intrude? I should have known better. I should have respected Toby—I shouldn't have been so nosy.

I clutched the pendant and held it against my chest, replaying the emotions over and over again.

"Maddie." The voice shook me out of my heartbroken state. "Maddie, what are you doing?"

I froze. I could have sworn, when I stopped moving, my heart did, too. I glanced at the stairway and Toby was standing there, still supporting himself on the crutches. He gazed at me, gray eyes narrowed and his expression cold and hard.

"I-I…" Words didn't come. This was it. The final straw. I'd be packing my bags and getting on a bus to return to my father's estate in the morning. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I had no right to—"

"You're right," Toby said. "You had no right to."

I swallowed hard. Tears were welling up in my eyes again, and I looked away. "I'll go pack my bags."

Toby shifted. "Maddie, stop. I'm not going to kick out."

"Why not?" My voice had risen. "I deserve it. I intruded and violated your privacy."

"Yes, you did do that," Toby limped forward and took the pendant out of my hand. "I should have expected as much. This isn't your fault."

"You should stop saying that," I said. "It is my fault. Don't pretend otherwise."

"No. I've been too secretive. It wasn't fair for me to hide everything from you and the others." The pendant was dangling from his hand as he spoke. Toby studied it, as it swung back and forward on the chains. His face was melancholy, and I could almost see the emotions being replayed through his eyes. He looked at the pendant a moment longer, then stuffed it into his pocket. "Would you like to here the story?"

I nodded reluctantly.

Toby took a breath."Her name was Sarah Park. We were friends since childhood, and started this agency together. For a while, everything was fine. Both of us were content."

I paused and recalled the warm, tingly feeling. A smile crossed my lips, but then faded quickly as Toby went on.

"One day, we had a call. It was about the ghostly shape of a young girl wondering around someone's mansion at night. This being our first big case, we were ecstatic," Toby hesitated. "Sarah was very carefree. Never took anything seriously—she thought that this case would go smoothly."

The manner in which he said that made me think that the case did not go fine. The deep, incredible sorrow clawed at my heart again, and I pushed back the tears.

Toby looked at me and gave a sad smile. "You two were a lot alike. She was always very determined and got her point across—not afraid to ask questions…but she made mistakes, too." His voice shook and he took another breath. "The ghost was far more powerful than we suspected. I told her to seal the Source while I tried to distract the apparition. I told her _not_ to engage with it or anything. Sarah didn't listen. She took the pendant and put it in her workbelt with some silver. I thought the ghost was done with, and we returned home."

There was another stretch of silence. The clock ticked. Finally hearing the truth, I thought I would feel satisfied. But I didn't want him to say another word about Sarah Park. I already knew because of my thoughtless intrusion.

But he finally spoke. "In the middle of the night, I heard a scream from downstairs. I came down and Sarah was in the kitchen, the silver pendant on the floor, and a ghost reaching for her…" Toby looked away. "I was too late."

I thought about the scream, the girl's terrified voice… "I'm sorry, Toby…"

Toby pulled the pendant out of his pocket and reached for the silver-glass case sitting on the table. He set the pendant in it and sealed the top. Toby hesitated, gazing at the shining piece of jewelry. "I never wanted anything like that to happen again. And now I keep fearing it will."

I frowned. "Because of me? Do you think I'd make a mistake like that?"

"You have already a few times," Toby's voice was cold for a moment. "You argue too much for me to feel confident going out on a case with you. Why do you think I always put you with William?"

My cheeks flushed, and I looked away. "I never meant to be so annoying. I was just...frustrated."

Toby set the silver-glass case back on the table. "I know. I don't blame you for it."

There was a long stretch of silence; not one made of awkwardness, but more of a moment to recall memories. I knew what I felt weren't my actual emotions, but it still echoed strongly in my ears, filling up my vision and clenching my heart.

Then I thought about Toby; how all this effected him. How I never considered why he had cloaked his past in a shroud of thick mystery. And all the pain he went through.

I couldn't even comprehend what it must have felt like, to lose your best friend since childhood. And because he lacked enforcing authority. No wonder he was so strict-Sarah Park disobeyed his orders, and ended up dead. How many times I was close to sharing her fate? I couldn't count.

"You should get some rest," I said, turning towards Toby. "The sooner you heal, the sooner things get back to normal."

Toby hesitated, then nodded. "You're right." Then he turned on his crutches and limped toward the staircase.

"Toby," I said suddenly. Toby turned in acknowledgment. "I really am sorry. About everything-you're a good leader, and nothing was your fault."

Toby smiled momentarily. "Thanks, Mad."

Then he slowly began to make his way up the stairs, folding up his crutches for a moment.

I sighed, edged around the sofa, then collapsed into its depths. My whole body was still sore, but I barely noticed. All I could think about was Sarah Park, her death, and how everything impacted Toby.

There was a sudden tug of tired weariness in my mind, dragging down my energy until my vision was fading into black.

 **Okay, I know what most of your are thinking; "A loved one of the leader dead? Pfft, how cliche!" and yes, that** ** _does_** **draw more parallels between Toby and Lockwood, but I had to have something like that to build on Toby's character. So, if he seems a bit too similar to Lockwood, I apologize. But worse things could have happened, right?**


	11. Chapter 11 - Confrontation

**PennTheWriter:** Congrats on the account! Yes, I really hope I have time to build-up their relationship. The whole romance thing is an unexplored area for me, so hopefully _I_ don't mess things up for them.

 **VioletPG:** Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it. I can't wait for the book to come out. As for inclusion with Lockwood & Co., there definitely will be some of that. Oh, and by the way, if you didn't know this already, you can read a free sneak-preview of the first chapter of the 4th book on Jonathan Stroud's website ( .com). Just in case anyone didn't know that.

 **FairyPirate:** wait how would that work?

 **CHAPTER 11**

When I awoke, the clocked had skipped ahead two full hours.

With a tired groan, I sat up from the sofa and stared down at the table for a few long moments as my mind re-organized the previous events.

All at once, I felt a sudden rush of realization. I jolted awake, my pain springing to life all the more vividly.

Then I stared at the rows of collected newspaper clippings and listened to the strange silence of the house. I felt a desperate urge for William and Eliza to return, for everything to go back as it used to be. Now knowing the truth behind at least a decent fragment of Toby's past, I thought I'd finally feel satisfied. But instead, I felt weary, sad, and guilty. I just wanted that to be lifted off my shoulders and to laugh along with my colleagues again.

I folded my hands in my lap and stared down at the table, still as a statue as I contemplated my relationships. Would if ever be like that again? I felt like I barely knew Eliza now, and to be honest, I didn't have a clue on how to feel about William. Now Toby? At least before, I had a firm attitude towards him, (annoyance and very fragile toleration), and now what?

I let out a quiet sigh and shook my head. How could things tangle up so quickly? All at once, it's this swirling, confusing complex mess. I wanted to feel sure again, just a regular teenage physic investigator hunting ghosts at night.

A sharp, weary knock on the door drew me out of my blank state. I straightened my skirt, and with a painful grunt, rose from the sofa and slowly walked towards the door.

My hand clasped the icy-cold handle. I shut my eyes, sorting through thoughts and organizing emotions. Then I turned the handle and pulled the door aside.

In front of me was Eliza. Her face was grimy and smudged with dirt, her hair messy and frizzy from the humid air. Her eyes were tired and weary, and her workbelt hung loose from lack of supplies.

I stared at her, taken aback. "Eliza..." I gestured for her enter, and she obliged. I shut the door, cutting off the cold wind and the gray light filtering in from outside. "I thought the wispy shape was just a Glimmer or Shade! Why are you so ruffled up?"

Eliza muttered a curse that would have curdled milk, and then unclipped her workbelt and hung it across the sofa. "It was a Cold Maiden, actually," She said. "Surprised me, and chased me into an old storm cellar."

I could have made an ironic remark like shaking my head at her and saying, "That's what you get for not researching a case properly!" But I knew the whole reason she was in this state was because of me.

"You should wash and rest for an hour," I told her carefully.

Eliza just shook her head. "Can't. William will be here soon, and I think he'll be in a worse state than me."

"Oh, right," I would have shifted my weight in an uncomfortable fashion if I still wasn't buzzing with pain.

Eliza cocked her head, interest drawing her out of her battered state. "What's the matter?"

I glanced away. "Nothing. I suppose I'm just feeling guilty."

Eliza sighed and stared at the row of trophies in front of us. "We've all messed up a case, Maddie," She said. "This is nothing."

With a sickening feeling in my stomach, I looked at the pendant and nodded. Eliza was right. But some mistakes were worse than others.

Then I snapped out of replaying the psychic echoes and grinned at her. "So," I said. "Do you have any more dates planned with Melody?"

I couldn't see it, because Eliza's face was covered with dirt, iron, and dust, but she might have blushed. "No...I should probably talk to her."

I nodded and then began to sulk again. Eliza probably wouldn't be able to talk with Melody for a while, considering her crammed schedule. Still, because of me. And no matter what Eliza or William said, it was my fault. Nothing could change that.

There was a knock on the door. Heart sinking, I clasped the handle and pulled it ajar. Surprisingly, William was in a better state than Eliza. His jacket, tattered and torn, his workbelt half-empty, but he didn't look as beaten-up. He had a cut on his lip and was covered with dust and cobwebs, but he still smiled at me. That made the image ten times worse.

William limped inside, and as he walked past me, I noticed a thin trail of blood running from his ears.

Imagine the worst pain you've felt, intensify it and add nausea and guilt-now you know how I felt at that moment.

"How did that case go?" The words felt lame on my tongue.

William pulled out a wad of cobwebs from his hair. "Not the worst I've been on, but not particularly pleasant."

William grunted and leaned against the sofa for a heartbeat. Then, like someone flicked a switch, he jolted back into standing position, brushed off the cobwebs from his hair and clothes. "So, shall I restock our inventory?"

Eliza nodded and handed him her empty workbelt. "I'll have a quick shower while you do that-Maddie, you should help him. We need to be at our next case in an hour and-a-half."

William hesitated, flashing me a quick glance of reluctance. He looked like he'd much rather be fighting a Limbless than being with me.

I felt another jolt of guilt, mingled with hurt. I remembered our conversation last night; I'd make him feel unwanted. He thought I rejected him.

I tried to make my expression as bright and positive as possible. "Right. Let's get to it, then."

Eliza paused a moment, her narrowed eyes darting between us. Then she nodded. "Okay. Don't take too long." Then she turned and vanished up the stairwell, swallowed by darkness.

William and I stood in silence, and that silence continued as we walked into the shadows, reaching for a gleaming doorknob beside the bathroom entrance. I pulled it open, only to reveal more blackness. A vast stretch of steps led downward.

I glanced down at my legs and arms, all bearing almost a hundred miniature cuts; the marks of glass cruelly slashing against skin.

"Do you need help getting down?" William asked me. I felt slightly relieved that his tone displayed genuine concern. At least he didn't hate me-or at least, didn't show it.

I shook my head. "No, I'll be fine."

Then we both started down the stairs. I shut the door, cutting us off from light.

The basement stairs have never seemed more challenging. I couldn't see anything in front of me, and there were empty jars of magnesium flares littered everywhere. The strong scent of lavender washed over me, clogging up everything else.

William nudged a few empty cans of magnesium flares out of his way. "We really need do clean up."

I nodded in agreement, but he probably couldn't see the gesture in the sea of darkness.

Finally, we stopped at the end of the staircase. My fingers searched the wall for a switch, and then quickly flicked it on.

A bright light consumed the room, making me look away while my eyes adjusted. I limped towards the set of lockers hugging the left wall and unlocked one.

William surveyed the room; the practice targets, the spilled salt across the floor. I drew out two chairs and a duffel bag, beginning to pull out our equipment.

As we worked, the room seemed very still. And yet I could hear a thousand words spilling out of my head, things I wanted to say, everything I could say. Yet not a single sound escaped my lips.

"Did you enjoy staying at home?" William asked.

I nearly jumped, the question startled me so much. I scanned his voice for bitterness, but found none.

"Not really," I admitted. "I just felt guilty that I couldn't help."

William shrugged. "We all break 70 year-old glass murals once in a while, Mad," He said jokingly. "It's no big deal. We'll get over it."

I blew a stand of hair away from my eyes, running a cloth over Eliza's ectoplasm-stained rapier. "What's the worse you've done, William?" I asked. "Ever messed up so badly?"

William hesitated, cleaning-cloth in hand, and gave me a ponderous expression. "I remember one of the first cases I went on when I joined," He said. "It was a vengeful old man's ghost in an abandoned house that they wanted to tear down for a prep-school or something. Wanted it safe. Toby was looking for the Source when I found something interesting-an old painting buried behind some boards. Toby called to me, but I was too interested in the painting. The spirit appeared and hovered right past me, and ghost-touched Toby. It didn't spread very far, of course, he got a shot of adrenaline. But we missed the ghost and didn't get paid-some Rotwell agents got the glory," He paused and looked at me. "One of the worst missed opportunists I've had."

Somehow, it seemed that while he was speaking of a ghost, he was trying to say something else. I stared down at the floor. "That does sound pretty bad."

William gave me his signature, carefree smile. "I told you. We all have bad days."

I smiled back. Reigniting a grin felt nice, like everything was right in the world. But it faded quickly. "William," I said, "Last night, what you said about me not needing anyone...that's not true."

William looked down at the gleaming blade silently. I gazed across the room at one of the practice dummies, heart thumping in my chest.

I shouldn't have said anything, I thought. I should have just pretended everything was fine.

Finally, he spoke. He was quiet, and did not look at me. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have messed everything up. We were fine. There was no need to complicated it," William took a breath. "I'm sorry."

I moved my hand and laced my fingertips into his. Even though the movement stung, I ignored it. "Don't be."

William smiled, and I found myself leaning forward. We were probably less than an inch away from eachother when a voice sounded from up the staircase. "Hey, William! Maddie! Have you got the equipment ready?"

William rolled his eyes, and our hands broke apart as Eliza came hurriedly down the stairs. Her hair was wet and her skin still glistened, but she was properly dressed and free of cobwebs.

I gestured towards the shining rapiers and full workbelts and bags. "Everything's in place."

Eliza nodded. "Thank you. William, you really need a shower. I'll re-check everything while you wash-up."

William didn't protest. He sat up from the chair and disappeared upstairs within moments.

I was left with a warm tingly feeling, and had to look away to hide a slight smile. I pushed it down, clearing my throat, and then looked back at Eliza. "So," I said, "Can I help you with anything else?"

Eliza snorted and folded her arms. "Do you think I'm stupid, Maddie?"

I shifted my feet and looked at the ground. "What are you talking about? Of course I don't-"

"Being romantically involved with a colleague is dangerous," Eliza warned. "It will shake up your instincts in the field and distort your thoughts in a dangerous situation."

"With William?" At this point, I was just denying everything. I poured defiance and surprise into my voice. "Is that what you're thinking? I would never do that! Just...never. Okay?"

"So, who then?" Eliza's voice was slow, but still had an edge to it. "Not?..."

I could feel the heat rushing to my face at that moment. "What you're suggesting...no. I'm not seeing anyone Eliza, especially not anyone here. And I don't think you have the right to grill me about this."

Eliza's glare hardened; it wasn't the typical "I-know-what's-going-on" glare that would make you hide away like a guilty child, but a much more serious, angry look. It had the same impact, however.

"I'm just trying to keep this agency's head above water," Eliza said slowly, and then looked at me again. "But you're making the job difficult."

Before I could flash back an angry retaliation, she turned and stomped up the staircase, vanishing from my sight.

I gripped the hilt of Eliza's rapier. How dare she say that?

I would have stayed there, fuming in silence, but I pushed back my anger and began to haul a large black duffel bag up the stairs.

I don't know how I managed to do it. One step at a time, one very pain-wrenching step. It was like my whole body was on fire. But, eventually, the duffel bag was leaning against the door.

I turned and began to limp across the hallway to retrieve the rapiers and work-belts, but a sharp knock on the door made me freeze.

I moved the duffel bag aside and opened the door.

For a moment, I just stared at the person in front of me, furrowing my brow and frowning. Why would he be interested in us?

Then, dread prodded me with a cold, sharp claw. Of course. We'd wrecked too many cases. That's why on that cloudy evening, Inspector Montagu Barnes, a DEPRAC official, had decided to pay us a visit.

 **Well, that's it for now. Updates may be irregular as I don't have constant access to Internet at the moment. Thanks for reading! :)**


	12. Chapter 12 - Unpleasant Visit

**Hi! So, luckily, I'm able to update the story. I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, really. It annoys me, too.**

 **PennTheWriter: Thanks! Yes, Eliza's kind of a stickler for rules (sometimes). I really don't know about effortlessly incorporating a canon character with the fanfic, (for some reason writing about actual characters keeps me on my toes), but I'm glad you think so. :D**

 **FairyPirate: Ah, yes! Rotwell agents. I forgot about that. I** ** _was_** **going to do something with a Rotwell boy, hopefully something that's related to that romantic stuff. Drama's not really my thing, I admit, mostly because it makes me cringe and blush while writing. (Not while reading. I love drama-fics).**

 **VioletPG: The preview probably drove me insane rather than satisfied me, to be honest. Always with the bloody cliffhangers...but whatever. As for why Barnes is always visiting small agencies, that's in this horribly short chapter.**

 **CHAPTER 12**

Inspector Montagu Barnes looked at me with narrowed, cold gray eyes. His face was old and decrepit, so ancient that I had a slight fear he might topple over and die on our doorstep. He wore a dusty brown suit and dark brown trousers, a heavy coat and a battered bowler hat. Tucked between his side and right arm was a thin folder.

The Inspector's expression gave nothing away as he surveyed me up-and-down; all my cuts, my bruised face, the messy hair.

I'd only ever seen Barnes once or twice during agency check-ups, and when we left the Lotterbox Lawfirm. I'd heard plenty about him, though. Shrewd, keen, and very strict.

I cleared my throat. "Mr. Barnes? Please, would you like to come in?"

Barnes looked hesitant and perplexed, like he knew he had to go in, but thought the moment he stepped into our house he'd be mugged. His voice was an unpleasant raspy-like noise. "I suppose."

I held the door ajar, and the Inspector wondered inside. I shut it again, closing off the gray light coming from inside and the heavy, ongoing traffic of people hurrying back home.

Tensed muscles in Barnes' face relaxed and drooped when he saw our home. It wasn't anything extraordinary or unusual (we didn't glue shrunken heads to our doorways or anything like that) it was simple. Warm, homely, and cozy. But today it was messier. Papers and half-empty mugs of coffee and tea were dotted around everywhere; markings of our frantic state.

"Is a Mr. Toby Gallenhood present here?" Mr. Montagu Barnes looked at me. His gaze was cold, drained of joy and any other emotion that wasn't distaste and annoyance.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Gallenhood's currently unavailable," I gave him my sweetest smile as I spoke. "He's exhausted from our last case."

I probably shouldn't have mentioned the case, because when I did, Barnes' expression morphed from utter blankness to sheer disapproval. "Ah, the Limbless of Whitewood Lane. That's the matter of why I'm here."

I flinched inwardly, but managed to keep an unconcerned expression. "Really? Why might that be?"

Maybe because I helped shatter a beautiful, ancient mosaic? I clenched my teeth. That was a dumb thing to say.

Before the Inspector could say anything more, a voice sounded from the bottom of the stairs, across the room. "Inspector Montagu Barnes? What a pleasant surprise."

Shoulders sagging with relief, I recognized Toby. He was supporting himself on crutches, dressed in a casual sense with jeans and a T-shirt, bandaged in many areas, but he still smiled at Barnes.

Barnes frowned. "There you are." He muttered something about how the leader of an agency should always be in commission, and then, "I'm here to conduct business, Mr. Gallenhood. I request you won't be so elusive."

Toby dipped his head and limped over to us. "I understand, sir. Please, take a seat."

The Inspector obliged. He sank into the depths of the sofa, and I had to hold back a giggle. His scrawny and skeleton-like frame made it seem as if the sofa was swallowing him whole.

"So," Toby's crutches were set again the armchair. "What shall we discuss?"

Barnes snorted. "Your kind is always so cocky," He set the folder on the table and raised his voice slightly. "Perhaps we should 'discuss' that you destroyed an important artifact?"

"Ah," Toby said. "That. Yes, it was an unfortunate accident. But I must be defensive-"

"Yes, yes, I know," I think Barnes rolled his eyes at that point, but I couldn't tell as his eye sockets were sunk too deep into his skull. " _'The choice was made in the moment, we had to save our lives'_ blah, blah. All folly! The point is-you were irresponsible. And this is only another addition to your reckless streak."

"I think it's the first."

"Really? And the Lotterbox Law Firm? Did Mr. Lotterbox not request he wanted everything to remain unscathed? You made a five-foot tall hole in the elevator and broke five glass walls-you shifted the entire lobby!" Barnes hesitated, like he wanted to say more, but Toby intercepted.

"Mr. Lotterbox had the blood of fifteen people on his hands, if I'm not mistaken. I don't think DEPRAC should be more concerned with the fact that we dented an elevator in order to save future lives than the fact Mr. Lotterbox was charged with manslaughter." Toby's voice was surprisingly sharp; I'd expected him to handle the Inspector with tight, accepting submission, but being home-bound must have shortened his temper.

Inspector Barnes' gray eyes glistened and his old, wasted muscles tensed. "What DEPRAC does is none of your business, young man. But I, and many other of my colleagues, have had enough of independent agencies running amok through London, destroying everything in their wake! That's why Father Silas requested that the Ivywood Lane Agency withdraws their agency license. And I must agree with him." He was fuming now, the words spit-like as they tumbled out of his mouth.

I stared at him, my jaw agape. Withdraw our agency license? That's...that's ridiculous! Half of me wanted to hurl insults at the Inspector and unload the half-a-mile long list of reasons why we were a skillful and professional agency, but my mouth felt dry.

Toby looked like he'd been snapped out of a long sleep. "There are plenty of other agencies who've made mistakes like Ivywood Lane," He said carefully. "I don't understand why you would corner us out of all of them."

"You're simply the first," Inspector Montagu Barnes responded crisply. "Independent agencies have been popping up all over England, most of them vacant of adult supervisors and are potentially very dangerous. We believe that a successful and safe agency that will contribute towards the elimination of Visitors must have a sufficient number of agents, proper headquarters, and qualified psychic investigators. Your agency is lacking in several of those qualities."

"So you're eliminating every agency that isn't completely industrialized and bulking like Fittes or Rotwell?" Toby shifted in his seat. "That is a biased operation, Inspector. Wasn't it a small, independent agency, lacking an adult supervisor that sealed the Source of the Brixton Cannibal?"

Barnes froze. "This is completely irrelevant, Mr. Gallenhood. I've come to deliver this folder, not argue with you."

Toby hesitated, like he wanted to say more, but then simply grabbed the folder and grasped several papers from inside. As the clock ticked and silence enfolded us, he began to read.

"If you haven't gotten to that part yet, Mr. Gallenhood," Barnes said, "Father Silas and a relative of Mr. Lotterbox are both requesting for you to withdraw your agency license," He paused, an abrupt cough shrouding his last words, "Unless you display several prominent qualities within two months."

I looked up from my sulking. "What was that last part, Inspector?"

Barnes looked at me with a cold, narrowed gaze, but repeated what he said.

Toby put the papers back on the table. "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means, that if your agency can prove your not dangerous towards the community within two months, you won't have to withdraw your license unless there is further complaint. Remain neutral within that time period, and you can kiss this ramshackle mess good-bye."

I thought Toby would relax because of the possibility that we could save our agency, but her just tensed again. "And I suppose any other agency with larger numbers could blow up the Thames and DEPRAC wouldn't blink an eye? It sure seems that way, Inspector."

The Inspector lurched forward from the depths of the sofa. "This is exactly why I'm here," He said, glaring at Toby with a startling amount of trembling hate. "Irresponsible juveniles that think they've got ten more years of sense throwing around their weight! Giving mindless children the right to prance around with magnesium flares and fatal weaponry." He recoiled at us in disgust. "This is what ends lives."

Toby sunk back into his chair, his unruly black hair spilled over his eyes. "I understand, Inspector. I think you should leave now."

Barnes was still trembling slightly. He rose from the sofa and glowered over us. "Certainly."

Then he stormed out of the living room, and a few moments the door opened and then slammed shut. The house rattled slightly.

I stared down at the table. I didn't notice it, but I was scowling. DEPRAC was wiping any agency that didn't agree word-to-word with their personal preferences. As if larger, far more industrialized agencies like Fittes or Rotwell haven't failed to subdue a ghost! And what did DEPRAC care about safety? They let their offspring risk their lives enough while they just straighten their coats in the evening and scurry on home to bolt their doors.

But if it gets messy? While we fight to make London a safer place? That's when they care.

While fuming, I didn't notice Eliza and William leap down the stairs, Eliza still running a comb through barely-dried hair, William frantically buttoning his coat.

They frowned, slowed their hustle, and went down to observe us.

"What's the matter?" William looked at me. "Who just came in and left the house trembling?"

Just like that, Toby was snapped out his brooding state. He smiled and gave them a casual reply. "Oh, just Inspector Montagu Barnes of DEPRAC. Nothing important, really."

Eliza's eyes widened. "What does DEPRAC want with us?"

"They're trying to wipe out every agency without a useless adult supervisor." I nearly spat the sentence out. It had never occurred to me before this visit; no matter how many times I sacrificed my sleeping hours, my days, my childhood to try and settle down our panicking society, it was never enough. They couldn't handle the reality, the messy, destructive reality. Adults now depended on the young for their lives, and they couldn't stand it.

William's frown deepened. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Toby said brightly, "That DEPRAC wasn't exactly pleased with our performance at the Whitewood Church, and believe it or not-they were upset that we dented Lotterbox's elevator...and his entire law firm," He paused, glancing at the folder and papers scattered across the table, "We've got two months to straighten up before they revoke our license."

Eliza took a breath. "Our agency license?"

Toby nodded.

"I knew this would happen," Eliza shook her head. "This is just...ridiculous! Not to mention hopeless. How can we prove to them that we're not a bunch of fools with swords? You're going to be up and about for two weeks, and Maddie here..." She paused. I could tell she wanted to spill out how unprofessional I was. "Is going to take a while to recover. William and I can't balance it all forever."

Toby shrugged. "We'll hire a Sensitive or something."

"Great, well," Eliza snapped, "You get on that. Hopefully when we've returned, you two haven't burned the house down."

I stared down at my feet. Eliza whipped around and stalked out the door, William following sheepishly behind her.

"Don't worry about Eliza," William assured me, his hand clasped around the doorknob. "She'll get over it." Then he disappeared off into the streets.

I gripped the edges of my skirt. We'd upset Eliza so many times, and now we were soaking up all her free time. Maybe this was a unthinkable fear, but what if she finally decided to leave? She was a very skillful agent and a talented researcher, she could easily land a job with Fittes.

I just shook my head and stared down at the floor. Everything was crumbling down in front of my eyes. What more could I do? I was almost completely immobilized, sourly detached from the action, unable to help my friends. And this had to be the last time it happened.


	13. Chapter 13 - Meeting Lucy

**Hey! Sorry for the late-ish chapter. I've been a bit busy throughout the last few days.**

 **VioletPG: Thanks! I'm pretty sure there's two different ways to spell it, not sure, though. Yeah, Barnes is annoying, but I think he's just trying to do his job.**

 **PennTheWriter: Thank you! Glad you enjoy it so much. I really appreciate all your support! :D**

 **FairyPirate: wait what would that do tho? (Sorry for the lack of romance, writing moments like that make me a bit flustered. Hopefully I'll get Maddie and William on a date or something).**

CHAPTER 13

I ran a finger down the newspaper columns, tiredness creeping up my vision, an empty mug of coffee sitting idly at my side.

The clock ticked, breaking through the heavy silence that hung over the house like a cloak.

It had been precisely three hours since Inspector Montagu Barnes left our hovel after delivering somewhat upsetting news; basically, DEPRAC hadn't taken a liking to our small agency and wanted us to prove that we weren't dangerous towards the public.

In my opinion, that was bloody ridiculous. All agencies had the potential to be incredibly dangerous, each time a team went out on a case. But the 'public' just has to deal with it and take the risk. It's in exchange for their safety, after all.

But I couldn't shove sense into DEPRACs' deaf ears. I just had to shut up and find a way to keep our head above water, like Eliza said.

I sighed and took a long sip of coffee. I recoiled at the bitter taste overtaking my tongue. I hated most types of coffee, but it kept me from dozing off.

What could I do? What could our entire agency-as a whole-do to make sure things weren't this bad ever again?

I shook my head and flopped backwards, sinking into the sofa. I'd been searching newspaper ads all morning while Eliza and William were on a case, chasing away a glowing shape at a park.

I was still incapacitated, at least for another two days or so. But my wounds were healing, and the striking pain had faded into a mild soreness.

During the last few days, Toby had retreated to his room. I only saw him during meals, and what he was doing was a mystery to me. Probably brooding about our most recent dilemma.

Who knew what Toby went through on a daily basis. Only now, I had just begun to comprehend his misty background, and still, I knew little of him. Part of me was beginning to like, or maybe being in-thrilled was a better term, by all the secrecy. I knew enough about my other colleagues; William's difficult relationship with his father; the absence of Eliza's parents. But Toby?

The only thing I knew about him was a girl named Sarah Park. She was the first to assist Toby as an agent, and from my understanding, was a close friend of his. But disobeying one of Toby's orders on a dangerous case led to her tragic demise. Ever since, he was always faraway; detached, unwilling to risk fully committing to any of us.

The sudden sound of a key twisting inside a lock and the creaking swing of a door made me turn. Throughout the past few days, our entrance door had developed an annoying sound each time someone opened it, courtesy of rusty hinges that needed to be replaced.

Eliza and William shuffled through the doorway and into the hall. Their workbelts jangled loosely, their faces grimy and clothes tattered and torn. This has become their usual state. I was used to seeing them battered and exhausted, but it didn't dull my guilt.

William let out a long sigh of relief as he detached his workbelt and rapier, sinking into the sofa across from me. Thick patches of cobwebs were strewn into his unruly brown hair, but at the sight of him, I couldn't help but smile. "That was an interesting case," He said cheerily.

Eliza snorted and unclipped her own empty workbelt, carefully unsheathing an ectoplasm-stained rapier, and then collapsed beside him. "'Interesting' is one word for it. I don't think I've ran so swiftly and so far in a long while."

Still, William grinned. "Being chased by a vengeful Specter does inspire such a feat. But it helped keep us in shape."

Eliza pulled a string of webs from her hair and brushed off some dust from her sleeves. "I suppose that's one way to look at it," Her gaze drifted over to me; cold, hard, without warmth. I squirmed around a bit. I didn't like the fact that Eliza was angry with me, but I was trying my best to revive her trust. "Have any luck finding an agent?"

I glanced down at my untidy stack of newspapers and frowned. "None that are good. Most are just Sensitives unwilling to actually fight a ghost, others are rejects turned down by agencies who possess just enough Talent not to be thrown into the night-watch...at this point, I don't think we'll find someone of actual substance."

"We don't need some super-talented agent," Eliza responded. "Just someone to help us out while Toby's recovering."

"It's not just that," I said. "Independent psychic investigators are disappearing. Most of the ones that aren't rubbish have gone off to Fittes or Rotwell. Which is odd, I think."

"Maybe not so odd," William mused. "DEPRAC's really sweeping up all the independent investigators and agencies. Isn't that against a law, or something?"

Eliza shrugged. "DEPRAC phases through laws like ghosts hover through walls. Sort of ironic. At this point, we might as well throw our rapiers and magnesium flares into a coffin and join up along with them."

I bristled inwardly. Maybe because Eliza's words stabbed a bit too close to the looming reality. "Don't say that," I stared at them. "Let's just try not to worry about it too much. Something will work out-in the mean time, why don't you two wash up? You're getting cobwebs everywhere."

Eliza didn't protest. She rose to her feet and looked down at William. "Alright. Since I fell into that pit and got a bit too close to some human remains, I should be entitled to first wash."

William shrugged. "Okay."

One of our baths was experiencing plumbing errors, so we were narrowed down to one shower. It seemed like the house itself was falling apart, bit by bit.

Still, Eliza hesitated. She flashed me a warning glance, like I was a child threatening to pull the fire alarm in a store. Then she got up and vanished down the hall. Moments later I could hear the sound of her footsteps thumping up the staircase.

I scowled and stared down at my feet. Whatever I did was none of Eliza's business. She had a personal life, and so did I.

And yet...

Could she be right? I looked at William. A burst of warmth fluttered in my chest, and I thought about how I would handle a dangerous situation with him. It could have a grave outcome...

"Thirsty?" I forced myself to speak.

William nodded. "Kind of. I think I swallowed a few cobwebs, so some tea would be nice."

I smiled and got to my feet. A dull dart of pain shot up my leg and then swirled around my arms, but I pushed it back. "I'll put the kettle on, then."

I brushed past him and emerged into the kitchen, which was a mess. Papers were scattered everywhere, piled on the table. Unwashed dishes from busy afternoons lay around the sink. Empty canisters of magnesium flares rolled across the floor, making the room look no better than our basement. I silently noted to clean it up when I had the time.

I pulled out the kettle, filled it with water, and then placed it on the stove. Soon enough, my mind began to drift back towards other things.

I thought about Inspector Barnes; the list of DEPRAC's newest requirements that we needed our own small agency to align with, just to be qualified as a real psychic investigative service. Then we'd really have to mop up, and we could do with something to get the Ivywood Lane Agency on its feet again.

I stared at the clock hanging above the refrigerator, heart sinking in my chest. An uncomfortable prickling feeling crept up my skin, and my heart fluttered-not in a good way, it was more a sign of anxiety and hopelessness. How could we do it? Was it even worth all this scrambling to keep our heads afloat anymore?

Several minutes later, I was carrying two cups of steaming-hot tea back into the living room. I handed one to William, and settled down next to him, though keeping a fair distance since he still had bonedust and grave-grit stained across his face and in his hair.

He took the cup and smiled. "Thanks, Maddie." Then he noticed my dazed expression and frowned. "What's the matter?"

I hesitated. I could unload all my doubts, the guilt, even confide in him about the conflicting new information I'd obtained about Sarah Park-but deep down, I knew that I could never repeat her story to anyone else. And I couldn't dampen William's spirits; we needed all the bubbly enthusiasm we could get.

"Nothing," I gave him my best reassuring smile, forcing my voice to not be heavy. "I just need to get out of the house for a while. Maybe go to a cafe or something."

William shifted. "Sorry I haven't managed to cook anything up. I bet you and Toby are starving."

I set my half-sipped cup back on the table. "We're managing," I paused, nearly standing up. "I should be off, now. I'll pick up some takeout for the rest of you when I come back."

"I can come with you." William offered.

My smile returned; I leaned forward to give him an affectionate kiss on the cheek. "No, you can't. You look halfway from being a Visitor yourself."

William glanced down at his clothes; tattered from ectoplasm burns, stained with dirt and also slightly fringed from magnesium flares. "I suppose-Maddie, have you seen Toby lately?"

I shuffled past my hesitation. That was not a question I'd expected. "No. He's busy brooding about Barnes's demands."

"What are we going to do? Hire a temporary agent?"

I stared down at the table. "I'm looking, but I don't want to hire some rubbish kid off the street. And at the same time we need to fix up the house. Barnes won't look kindly on an agency that lives in a place like this," I added warily, "I think we shouldn't accept anymore minor cases until we're ready for it."

To my surprise, William nodded in agreement. "You're right. But Toby doesn't like to turn anything down."

There was a brief silence.

I stood. "I'll be going now. I'll be back before Curfew." Then, after hearing William's swift good-bye, I turned towards the hallway, grabbed my jacket off the coat-hanger, and stepped into the streets.

Today was colder than I anticipated. Swirling gray clouds curled up around the sky, choking the blue into a dull gray. The streets were silent; today there were no children playing in the gardens while their parents looked on.

Somehow, I felt more at ease with the emptiness. Perhaps the solemnity felt relieving-there was no one to pester me, to add onto the list of churning problems overshadowing my every move.

Yes, it was quite quiet. Almost...

I shook my head. It was only 4:00 o'clock in the afternoon. There would be no ghosts about yet...still, my nagging conscious managed to weigh down my thoughts, letting fear creep into my heart. It was October; the time of the year when nights were hardly lighter than afternoons. And I had no weapons. I had no defenses-today, I was just an ordinary fifteen year-old girl walking the gray streets of London.

I walked down the pavement and crossed the street quickly. The area wasn't completely silent, however. There were a few agents and adults scurrying along their way, disappearing was fast as I'd spotted them.

Soon enough, I'd stopped at a local cafe around our district of London. It was half-empty; its lights were a lively, bright contrast against the color-drained buildings surrounding it.

With no desire to linger outside, I hurried on in, adjusting my jacket and making subconscious attempts to smooth my ruffled brown hair.

I took a seat near the corners, where I could keep an eye on the street. I admit, I don't get out much, and when I do, my mind's always occupying the subject of Visitors.

My gaze scanned around the little cafe; near the front, a counter held a display of various baked goods; a chalk-board menu listed coffees and several other types of food; a few youths were scattered around, enjoying the soft alternative rock playing idly in the background. I liked the place immediately.

After my fears of an impending apparition vanished, I strolled up to the counter and ordered a frappachino. The barrista smilingly accepted my order, and I went back to my table.

Around me, the teenagers and young adults glanced across at the window. The peacefulness around me suddenly drained away into nervous weariness. Most left their seats and rushed out of the cafe, eager to catch the evening bus home before Curfew.

A frown flickered across my face. They were so frustratingly cowardly; but then again, if I didn't have any agency equipment, I wouldn't be so willing to stay out late, either.

As I waited for my coffee to be delivered, my gaze strayed across the cafe towards another corner table. A girl sat there; she had a hip-length khaki-colored button-up coat, walnut-brown hair only slightly longer than mine; and sturdy black boots. Around her waist, a workbelt jangled quietly; a rapier hung in a thin Velcro clasp at her hip.

My stomach churned slightly. The girl's chin was supported by her hand, her arm and elbow leaning on the tabletop. If I could have seen her from the front, she probably would've had some contemplative expression on her face. She was an agent, and it seemed she had an exterior shockingly close to my own.

A shrill little bell sounded from the counter; my frappichino was there, next to an ice-cold black coffee.

I stood up, approached the counter, and the girl did, too. When we both paused to take our drinks, I looked her in the eye for the first time.

She was about fifteen, maybe sixteen, with hazel eyes. She was pretty, but not delicate. She was tall, nearly 5'6, fit-like, with a build that clearly suggested she spent her time slashing through ghouls with a rapier.

And yet...yes, I knew her. Not directly, but from somewhere...where was it?

"I knew you," I blurted. "From the papers. You're Lucy Carlyle, aren't you?"

The girl paused. She looked uncertain, as if she didn't know how to reply. "I am. Do I know you?"

"No..." Suddenly I felt very silly for saying anything at all. "I'm just an agent. You wouldn't know me."

"Well, I'm an agent, too," Lucy Carlyle gestured to her workbelt and rapier. "I've worked with quite a few agencies as well-how come I've never seen you?"

"I work at a small, independent agency," I was aware of my hand becoming considerably cold from my coffee. "Ivywood Lane Agency."

Lucy Carlyle looked interested. "I've heard of you. Unmasked Mr. John Lotterbox and rid that place of a Raw-bones and Poltergeist," She smiled. "Impressive."

Her praise ignited a slight smile from me, but it faded quickly. "Ah, that...it didn't go exactly to plan, but it worked."

After a short while, the two of us were sitting across from each other, exchanging stories about former cases and funny incidents about fellow colleagues. Once I was actually talking, I found that words came more easily. I didn't feel like so much of a crazed nobody asking for the autograph of a talented agent.

I told her about the Lotterbox Case, and how I was charmingly swept into the elevator, and how we all got jumped by the most hideous Raw-bones. She told me about other cases of hers, though I knew most of them because of the papers.

I'd drained my coffee in ten minutes flat. "So what happened to Bickerstaff?" Lucy Carlyle was telling me about the case in Kensal Green Cemetery.

"Well, my friend-George Cubbins-he was wrestling with Joplin, grappling for the mirror. It ended up shattering to pieces, and Bickerstaff's ghost faded," Lucy Carlyle hesitated before going on. A slightly wistful look glimmered in hazel eyes. "What about you? Got anymore stories?"

I frowned. "Sadly not..." All at once, I thought of everything churning around me. Sarah Park, Inspector Barnes' demands, scurrying for a new agent... "Our agency's in a bit of trouble with DEPRAC," I admitted.

Lucy Carlyle shifted in her seat, a scowl flickering across her face. "What have they done now?"

To many of the independent agencies and psychic operatives out there, DEPRAC was a bothersome scourge hovering above our business. "Well...it's not so much what they've done," I said hesitantly. Ms. Carlyle was a complete stranger. I'd only known her for precisely twenty minutes, and yet I found myself spilling out stories I'd never would have told another random girl. "A week ago or so, my team leader and I were on a case-the Whitewood Lane Church, investigating the supposed appearance of a Limbless. It surprised us, and we fell through an ancient glass mural, shattering it to pieces."

Lucy Carlyle blinked. "It seems that we both have experienced unfortunate incidents involving glass," There it was again; the slight, barely noticeable gleam of melancholy in her eyes. If I met her a few weeks ago, I wouldn't have recognized the look. But now, I understood it completely.

I pushed back the echoing wail of Sarah Park's voice to the very edges of my conscious. "DEPRAC's given us a deadline to prove we're not 'dangerous to the public' and to fill out several new requirements."

Lucy Carlyle gave me a sympathetic, understanding look. "I know what that's like," She told me. "But how are you going to prove that your agency's not dangerous? Every agency is dangerous."

I shrugged. "We've had a bit of a streak, though. Maybe a high-profile case. We just need to clean up, that's all..." Still, I couldn't stop my doubt from sinking into my voice and expression. "And it doesn't help that the team leader and I are incapacitated for a few days. My two other colleagues are practically drowning in cases-small ones, but it's hard on them."

"I can help you," She said suddenly. "With the cases, I mean. I've got really sharp psychic Talent."

I hesitated, generally taken aback by her offer. "But...you're not a freelance operative anymore, are you? I can't distract you from your own agen-"

Lucy Carlyle interrupted. "I'm not apart of an agency yet. I'm just considering it. Besides, I know what it's like to be cornered by DEPRAC. Not fun. I can help out for a few days, for free. It's no trouble at all."

I was about to open my mouth to deliver a flattered, polite decline. Truthfully, I have to admit, that Lucy Carlyle was quite intimidating, and also extremely talented. Maybe my subconscious was afraid she'd outshine me, but that was ridiculous. She was making a generous offer, and was a formidable agent.

"Are you sure?" I stared at her. "I mean, agreeing to help the sinking agency of a random girl you met at a cafe?"

Lucy Carlyle smiled. "I'm quite sure. I'd be glad to help you."

Still, I was hesitant. But my own grin reformed, a slightly unwilling, automatic response to her's. "Thank you," I said at last. "This is a huge help. When will you be able to start?"

Lucy Carlyle gave me a slightly reluctant, bright grin, as if she had just wrestled off a nagging thought that had been pestering her throughout the entire conversation. "Whenever you need me," She paused, raising an eyebrow at my slightly awkward reaction, then added with a laugh, "Which I suppose is now. Would you like to maybe call in advance?-Showing up at your house with a random operative would certainly raise questions."

I thought back to Eliza's continuous frowning and how rattled and nervous we all were. No, help simply could not come sooner. I knew that if I suddenly popped back home with a random fifteen year-old girl they would be surprised, but in the long-run, vastly grateful. Then again...

I let a smile tug around the corners of my mouth. "I suppose you are right about that, Ms. Carlyle. How about I talk to them-I'll call you the day after tomorrow, and if you like and you can drop by. We have a case just then."

"Sounds perfect," She glanced down at a gleaming, laminated-dialed watch and frowned. "Oh, wonderful. I was expected to be home thirty minutes ago. George and Lockwood will be storming up a fit when I get back."

I couldn't help by grin. By the way Lucy referred to her colleagues made me reflect on my own. Although, this Lucy Carlyle always seemed troubled and melancholy. Something, (though I can't imagine of questioning her of this) was definitely wrong, and I guessed it had something to do with her friends.

"Sorry for keeping you," We were both standing now. "I suppose I should be off, too." William would be wondering where his coffee and his friend was.

Friend...what? I suppose just then, something clinked in my mind, like two broken gears finally being repaired and now functioning clearly and properly for the first time in a long while. I didn't quite think that 'friend' would describe our relationship, but I'm also not sure what I would deem it as.

After that, we exchanged numbers, and Lucy promptly disappeared off into the night, swiftly and silently.

The cafe was just beginning to close, and I was lucky enough to grab three coffees, leave just as the sun was starting to sink below the horizon, and make it home safely.

By the time I arrived back home, it was five-thirty, and the dead were seeping back into the world of the living once again.

My hand clasped the freezing-cold handle. The door was thankfully unlocked, (the relief centered around the fact that I was somehow managing to carry four coffees) and I made it in without spilling a steaming-hot black coffee all over my shirt.

It was soothingly warm and dim inside. Firelight danced across the hallways, shadows rising and falling each second. I could tell by the scent I was met with that there was a fire burning-a controlled one, mind you, in our fireplace.

However, this made me frown. We only ever lit the fire when we were holding an important meeting among our agency-those meetings are considerably rare, as they only occur when we're faced with a problem drastically vast and looming.

I sunk across the hallway, a frown spreading across my face. What troubled me more than an active meeting was the fact they were holding it without me. We had some rules; small in numbers, thankfully for me, but also greatly important. One of them was to never hold a meeting while a member of the agency wasn't present.

When I emerged from the living room, I set the coffees down on our long entryway table, and turned to view the scene around me.

Toby was sitting in his chair, lurching forward slightly and his hands folded in his lap. His expression was hard and cold, and looked like he was in the middle of saying something to William.

Eliza was scowling down at the floor, shaking her head. I walked in just as she was replying, "...we can't do that..."

William was the first to notice my arrival. He jumped up, his expression uncharacteristically rattled and shocked. By the look of him, he'd just jumped out of the shower and put on some fresh clothes. Despite him looking like he just discovered that his father was the leader of an international drug cartel, he smiled.

"Coffee-brilliant! Thanks, Mad," William didn't say anything about how I was thirty minutes later than I should have been. "We're all kind of having a chat now."

"Yes," I said, giving him a disapproving look, "Without me."

William just chuckled nervously and led me over towards the main sofa where Eliza was sitting, coffees in his hands.

Toby looked up at me. "Good, good...you're here."

I could tell that whether I was here or not didn't matter. Whatever Toby had called this meeting for-the news had been delivered. Everyone seemed...rattled, to say the least.

For a second, my eyes widened. Did Toby tell them about Sarah Park? Is that why he called the meeting? It would explain why he didn't wait for my arrival-I already knew of her.

I found my voice. "What's going on?"

Eliza spoke before Toby; she was glaring down at the floor, but looked at me and said, "Toby has decided to disband the agency. We're forfeiting our license next week."

 **Well, that's it for now. Sorry if tthere's any typos I missed, I'm submitting this chapter on my tablet, so editing is a bit difficult. Bye!**


	14. Chapter 14 - A Mundane Evening

**PennTheWriter: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it. :)**

 **VioletPG: Wow, thanks! Yeah, having both of the teams meet would be pretty funny with the parallels...maybe I can fit Lockwood or someone into the story.**

 **CHAPTER 14**

I stared at Toby, my mouth hanging open, my eyes drawn wide with shock. At the same time, anger and resent burned steadily deep in my chest; how quickly Toby resorted to this...

"No." The words felt lame on my tongue; weak and softly spoken. I shook my head and spoke louder. "No way I'm letting you do this, Toby."

Toby blinked, as if taken by surprise. "Made-"

"Shut up." I cut him off. "Please. You're not going to give up so easily, are you? What happened to the dreams of making a difference against the Problem? What about all of us?"

"There's no other way, Maddie." Defeat hung on each word.

"Really?" I shrugged my shoulders. "Timing's perfect, then, huh?" I muttered to myself. "Toby, would having an extra, skilled agent help us out change your mind?"

Toby hesitated. "There's more to it than that, Maddie."

"Is there? Afraid we'll break some more glass?" My voice was sharp, sarcastic, and dry. William and Eliza were staring at me in confusion and awe, like watching two wild animals at eachother's throats. "Toby, we're going to break things no matter what. It's apart of the job."

Toby's eyes narrowed; he stared at me. "Then what do you purpose then, Maddie?"

"Hire another temporary agent," I said simply.

"I thought you said that you couldn't find anyone," Eliza spoke this time. Her glasses reflected the crackling flames burning steadily in the fireplace.

"Not until about thirty minutes ago," I said. "Remember the agency that neutralized the Brixton Cannibal's source?"

The others gave small nods, and I continued.

"A member of that agency, Lucy Carlyle, I met her. She's willing to help us out for a week or two."

"So," Toby said slowly, "You want to hire a random agent you met ?..."

"At a cafe." I said helpfully. "And how is this worse than answering the ad of some pitiful Sensitive? Lucy has far more experience than most of us, I assume."

William glanced halfheartedly at the coffees sitting idly and un-sipped on the tabletop. "So that's why you took so long."

I nodded. "Yes. We had a nice long chat, actually."

"Exchange numbers?"

"Yes."

Toby stood up. "Call her up, will you? We can make arrangements for the following week, hopefully."

I looked up at him. "And what about forfeiting our license, then?"

"I suppose that's not necessary..."

I couldn't keep the smug contempt out of my voice. "Thought not." I lurched back against the sofa. Toby rolled his eyes and scoffed, skirted around the living area, and disappeared up the stairs.

"You..." Eliza stared at me, as if struggling to grasp the correct words, and at the same time was putting off the idea of strangling me. "Maddie, sometimes I don't quite understand you."

William grinned; he took my hand. "Well, looks like you just told off Mr. Gallenhood, and saved our agency. Not bad, if I say so myself."

Eliza glared at him, but said nothing.

"I didn't tell him off," I said defensively. "I just told him not to throw everything away." Even so, at the back of my mind, I understood why Toby was so willing to surrender. The purpose of an agency is fixated on destroying Visitors; returned souls of the dead whom seek harm upon the living. Toby had acquired Sarah Park, a close friend of his, as an agent, and that led to her losing her life. Perhaps Toby thought that our agency was doing more harm than good towards those who operated it.

I shook the thought off. I didn't want to think about Sarah Park. I didn't want to think about how she was just like me in some ways-headstrong, stubborn, and reckless. Just like me, she disobeyed her leader, and that ended up with her being killed.

Even now, I could feel the presence of her. There was a cold prickling at the back of my neck; subtle, but it was always there, if I thought about it.

"Anyway," Eliza said slowly, "You met Lucy Carlyle, didn't you? What did she tell you?"

I thought for a moment, recalling Lucy's warming stories about her colleagues, the chilling cases they had undertook. Honestly, most of the conversation seemed to be her wistfully replaying old memories; memories in which mostly revolved around her friends.

"Mostly about the agency she used to work at," I said carefully.

William nodded. "What was the name? Lock-something?"

"Lockwood & Co." Eliza said. Then her gaze returned to me. "What do you mean, 'used to work at'?"

"She left and was a freelance agent for a while, and I think she's considering rejoining her old agency," I gave a casual shrug of my shoulders. "I didn't want to pry and bombard her with a hoard of questions."

"Let's hope she's good enough then," Eliza gave a stretch and stood up, yawning. "I'll be off to bed, I suppose. Behave."

Before I could mutter an indignant retort, Eliza was off, her footsteps on the stairs echoing quietly throughout the house.

The fire crackled.

"That really was some great luck you had with Lucy Carlyle," William offered. He gave a little laugh. "To think-if you hadn't went out to get some coffee, our agency would be over. Funny how the little things take effect."

I nodded in agreement. I felt too tired to say much. Weariness dragged down my bones and my mind. The warmth of the fire didn't help on account of keeping me awake.

"Yeah," I agreed. "I just hope it'll work out."

William squeezed my hand. "It will. Don't worry. You've had enough to think about, Maddie. I wouldn't stress, really."

"I've had enough to think about?" I stared into the flames. I was dimly aware of black spots dancing around my vision from the sudden attack of brightness. "William, you've been constantly overworked. I don't think I'm the one who shouldn't be pulling my hair out."

"A few extra cases is nothing," William promised. "You need to stop blaming yourself over that Whitewood incident. Quite honestly, I could have used being busy. I've grown a bit lazy."

I could have rolled my eyes and unloaded a series of dismissing comments, but instead I let myself lean against him. I slumped against the sofa, enjoying the warmth. For a moment-just the briefest flash-everything was alright in my little world. I could have stayed there forever, lounging beside the fire, holding hands with William.

I felt my vision growing darker, and my tensed shape slumped against the sofa, the world around me dimming into nothingness.

Luckily, I was the first one in our household to wake up that morning.

William and I were still slumped against the sofa together, holding hands, while the fire was reduced to some burning embers. Instantly, I unhooked myself, rubbing my eyes while my mind cleared.

I shook William's arm. "William! Wake up."

A few more blunt shakes, and he was awake. "Wha-? What did I do?"

"We fell asleep." I said simply. "There others will be up soon."

William noticeably blushed. "Oh. Right." He cleared his throat. "What time is it?"

I glanced down at my watch. "Seven-thirty."

"Oh, it's bloody early," William complained. "Eliza and Toby won't be up until ten. Couldn't you have let me sleep in?"

"No." I said. I was only half-listening to him; I gazed around at our messy home. Papers were strewn across the floor, and large, unsipped mugs of coffee decorated every table. The rugs were stained with mud tracks, and I sensed that someone left some pungent snack or other to rot, do to the foul smell. The house was definitely not work-safe. "We've got work to do," I muttered.

William blinked. "Work? I think I've had enough of that."

"Not yet." I looked at him. "We have a case tomorrow, don't we?"

He nodded.

"And we're out of supplies?" I guessed. William nodded again.

"Okay." I stood up. "I'm running to the shop, then. You can clean up here."

"But..." William protested weakly. "Oh, fine. I'll clean up."

"Just make the house look like it's not been infested with some sort of disease," I said. I frowned. "Or maybe it's too late for that..."

"The house isn't that bad," William said. "Alright, you're right, it is fairly catastrophic." Reluctantly, William got to his feet, stretched, and looked around. "Oh, boy. This will be fun."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll have to be off. Tell Eliza and Toby where I've gone, will you?"

William nodded. He was gathering scattered papers from the floor and rounding up mugs of coffee and moldy food. "Will-do..." His face grew into an expression of disgust and horror. "What the _hell_ is that? Is it _supposed_ to be green?"

"Ah!" I stopped by the door. "You know that patch of wall near Toby's desk? Needs to be repainted. Good luck."

William gave me one last look, as if saying, _Please don't leave me here._ But I was already out the door.

Perhaps I should have given leaving the house more thought.

I was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, my hair was unbrushed, and I had spilled coffee on my sweater.

I admit, I probably left so quickly on account of being flustered. I was still tingling from head-to-toe, and my face might have been flushed.

The streets of London were busier than they were yesterday. Everything seemed slightly more colorful-a sharper gray, if you will.

Crowds milled around, pouring through the streets, coming in and out of nearby shops and cafes.

I'd managed to grab my rapier on the way out, but I wasn't sure whether that helped or not. But I liked the honorable assurance I felt when I wore the subtle (or, not very subtle) markings of an agent. It made me feel important among the sea of chaos-I was a vital contributor in our panicked society, whether they appreciated me or not.

 _Right_ , I thought, brushing crumbs off my skirt, _why did I leave the house again?_ _Oh, yes. Supplies._

It was an obvious rule that every agency must be properly equipped with the essential equipment that could provide safety against Visitors. And, right now, the Ivywood Lane Agency probably owned a total of two magnesium flares, and a few pouches of salt and iron.

That simply wouldn't do.

Over the years, Europe had grown warily accustomed to the threat of the undead walking at night, and so products such as iron and lavender suddenly appeared everywhere you looked; fragrant purple plants lined gardens, stuffed into windowsills; iron was a grim marking on almost any household, marring what used to be a beautiful building, contorting the image into one similar to a prison's; salt was scattered across the streets, it would lay like a thin layer of snow at your feet almost anywhere you ventured.

And so, this was something of convenience if you were an agent; you could walk into a nearby grocery store and leave the establishment with a cartload of overpriced Visitor-wards.

Right now, I was strolling down Ivenson's St., heading to a nearby stand around the corner that usually catered to agents during night and day.

I would have reached it if it wasn't for the homely building standing to my side; a perky sign poked from the doorway: _Ferngarden Library._

I shrugged my backpack off my shoulder and peeked inside. Aha...yes, I had brought it. Good. They were almost overdue.

Around a week or two ago I had borrowed a few fiction-novels from the little library, and I wouldn't want to be banned from my colleague's girlfriend's library because I hadn't returned it.

That was still admittedly shocking to me. How could I have not noticed Eliza had a girlfriend? And the chances that I met Melody without knowing?

I clasped the doorknob and pulled it aside. A bell made a little jangling sound as I stepped from the cold winds of London into the drab warmth inside.

Melody Ferngarden was sorting a cart of books into a nearby shelf. She looked the same as I'd last seen her; jeans, a frilly-collared green blouse, curly red hair. My first impression of Melody was of a soft-spoken bookworm, but now I didn't know what to think. Kind, gentle Melody dating sharp-tongued Eliza? _Well, opposites do attract, I suppose._

Melody heard my entrance. She turned towards me, and with little to no hesitation, gave me a radiant smile. "Madeline," She said, "it's been a while."

I responded with a less gleaming smile of acknowledgment. "It's nice to see you," I said. "I've just come to return these..."

"Ah," Melody nodded. I pulled the novels from my backpack and handed them to her. "My two favorites...they're from my personal collection, you know."

I blinked. "Really? You loaned them to me?" Suddenly I felt a sudden fear that I'd gotten ectoplasm burns on the books, or maybe stained them with molten iron...if you can do that to a book.

Melody's eyes sparkled. "Any favor for a friend of Eliza's."

I frowned. "Wait...you knew I was Eliza's friend when we met, and you didn't say anything?"

Melody turned away briefly, setting the two novels down on the cart. "I was...nervous," She admitted. "And I didn't know if Eliza wanted to tell you first...she's not keen on sharing her personal life."

I nodded. "Yeah. But I'm happy for her, and you."

"Thank you," Melody said. She looked relieved. "Honestly, I'm slightly worried about Eliza. We rarely get to see eachother anymore."

I felt my heart drop. "Oh...because she's working a lot,"

Melody looked up. "Is that it? I thought maybe I did something..."

"No, really," I said, my heart plummeting a few more miles down, "Eliza's just busy with the job. That's it. She would spend more time with you if she could."

Melody smiled. "I hope that's the reason," She said. She slid another book into the shelf. "Sorry for unloading my worries onto you."

"No problem," I said. "But seriously, don't worry about Eliza, alright?"

Melody hesitated. "Alright...thank you for returning them."

I stared at the rows of bookshelves; the gentle, soft glimmer in Melody's eyes. Suddenly I could imagine why they liked eachother so much.

"It's fine." I said. "And I think you'll have more time with Eliza soon. We're hiring another temporary agent to help out for a while."

Melody glanced at me. "Really? Who?"

"Lucy Carlyle," I said. "A real talented Listener."

Melody's green eyes sparkled playfully. "I've heard of her," She said. "She's cute."

I laughed. "Yeah, I guess." I let my hands fall into my jacket pockets. "Um, I suppose I'll be off. I need to restock our supplies."

"Oh, don't let me stop you," Melody said. "Go on."

We exchanged brief goodbyes, before I wondered out of the library. Suddenly it's warmth didn't seem so enticing.

Guilt weighed down my movements, making me sluggish. I couldn't help but think that I had thrown a brick at their relationship, so to say.

I mentally chided myself. _For once, Madeline, it's not completely your fault. Toby helped screw that case up, too._

I recalled that foggy night at the Whitewood Church; the terrible, nightmare-inducing creature dragging itself along the floors, leaving a thick trail of blood in it's wake. It had caught Toby and I completely off-guard.

However, one thing that struck my memory more than the Limbless was Toby, in that moment. He was never one for sharing, and I hadn't ever heard him speak of his parents. My guess was that they were dead. _My mother took me here when I was little..._ that's what he had said.

I imagined Toby as a little kid, squirming and bored, sitting in one of the rows in the church, being chastised by his mother. I wondered what he was like before Sarah Park's death, and before whatever had happened to his parents.

I knew now not to take information by force. It only induced painful heartache. All I had done by holding that pendant was taking some of Toby's burden, even if it was just an echo. The physic element of Touch did that to you; it was one of the more elusive, unstable, and unreliable Talents that could take your emotions at any moment, and leave you rattled permanently, and, of course, it was one of my primary physic abilities.

The following evening was painfully mundane; at least, it was as mundane an evening could become for an agent. I spent several long hours haunting the nearby agency set-ups, and by the time I was finished, I was stocked with a duffel-bag full of supplies.

I hated shopping, even when I was purchasing fatal weaponry and Greek Fire in a bottle. There were several occurrences that evening in which I nearly dropped a magnesium flare and set fire to a nearby McDonald's, and I nearly skewered a burly middle-aged woman, barely managing to avoid her wrath by slipping out of the establishment's window.

Due to those unfortunate incidents, I was the equivalent of a fugitive among _Mullet & Sons_, and many other shops that catered to the needs of agents.

On the bright side, that probably meant that I wouldn't be going on another shopping spree soon.

By the time I pattered up the steps of our Victorian townhouse, my legs and arms were aching from the trouble of lugging around a duffel-bag stuffed with supplies. However, I did notice that our little sign indicating that we were a physic investigative service was newly painted; it actually had an _i_ in 'service'.

Yes, things did look quite chipper...the azaleas in the garden were freshly watered; the porch had been swept free of salt, and was repaired from ectoplasm burns; there was now a shiny new ghost-lamp hovering near the door.

 _The others must have been fairly busy,_ I thought, impressed.

I pushed open the door, which luckily had been relieved of the annoying creaking sound it recently developed. Turning my back to ease it shut again, I let the duffel bag fall to the floor.

 _"Hiss!"_ Came the noise; similar to a ghost suffering under the slashes of a rapier.

I gave a sudden jolt, turned, and unsheathed my own rapier, and faced...a cat.

"Maddie!" William appeared, scurrying out of the kitchen. His eyes were wide. "Oh, put that down! It's just Maverick."

Hesitantly, I lowered my rapier, scowling. I got a better look of my 'enemy': it was a little black kitten with wide yellow eyes.

"What the hell? Why is there a cat in the house, William?" I sheathed my rapier and glared at him.

"Ah," William said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away, "well, remember when you told me to clean up the house?"

I nodded slowly, raising my eyebrows.

"well," William continued, "I ran to the shop to grab some cleaning supplies, and someone was giving away a litter of kittens by the entrance."

I gritted my teeth. "You didn't. You adopted a kitten? I leave you alone for a few hours, and now we have a new addition to the agency?"

Maverick, the kitten, simply brushed against my legs and purred. I ignored it.

"She's just a cat," William argued. "What harm is it?"

"What, Toby and Eliza are fine with it?"

William shrugged. "Eliza loves cats, and Toby, well, he doesn't really care."

I glared down at the kitten, which was now prodding the duffel bag experimentally. "You're impossible," I told him. "No more pets. Understand that?"

"Well, 'no more'? Shame, really, I was thinking that we could use a dog-"

"William." I interrupted, folding my arms.

"Oh, fine," William said. "Have it your way...but is the cat really that bad?"

"I'm just not a cat person," I shrugged.

"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard." William said. Meanwhile, the kitten wove between us, purring and blinking innocently.

"Whatever," I muttered. "Just-you're taking care of it, got that?"

"She's not an 'it'," William said defensively. "The kitten has a name."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, really? Maverick, was it?"

"Mhm."

"You named the kitten Maverick?"

"Not just me. Eliza helped."

"I can't believe Toby let you do this," I grumbled. "We've already got tons of problems on our plate, and you decide to get a cat?"

William frowned. "You're awfully grumpy today, Maddie."

"Yeah, well, lugging around thirty pounds of agency supplies in the cold tends to do that to a person," I said.

William scooped up Maverick and stroked her chin; the kitten purred contentedly and blinked her wide yellow eyes. "On the plus side," He said, leading me into the kitchen, "We got a lot done today. Eliza filed some updates on our agency license, since it was about to expire. I tidied up the house-even painted that bloody sign. And Toby made some arrangements with that Lucy Carlyle."

I looked up. "Arrangements?"

William nodded. He set Maverick back on the floor, slipped into a kitchen chair, and began to sketch on a piece of paper absentmindedly. "Yup. The Ivywood Lane Agency is hiring one Lucy Carlyle as a temporary psychic investigative assistant from...what's the date today?"

"September 7th."

"Ah, yes. September 8th to September 18th. Loose contract or something. Nice pay. Looks like you fetched a nice agent, Maddie." He grinned.

I crumpled into the chair across from him. "So," I said, "We've adopted a new agent and a cat."

"Basically," William agreed. "Ms. Carlyle is housing with us for ten days as part of the contract, I think. She agreed to help us out on that case tomorrow."

I frowned. "The one DEPRAC threw at us? The girl in a white gown walking the halls of some abandoned hotel that needs to be torn down?"

William nodded in response. "That's the one. You and Ms. Carlyle are going on it together while Eliza and I get some rest."

"What?-just me and her? What about Toby?"

"He's still recovering remember? Doctor's orders," William snorted. "Trust me, he's not happy about it, either. Spent half the day in the basement practicing with his rapier, muttering and complaining."

"Complaining doesn't sound like him." I noted.

"He's been…" William frowned. "I don't know, less Toby-ish the last few days? We actually had a lengthy conversation, which is new."

"That is odd," I said. Maybe when Toby opened up to me a few days ago that knocked down a wall-or at least, one wall.

Of course, I knew why Toby never opened up. It was much easier to not form a bond with someone who could die so easily...someone that you were responsible for.

"Anyway," William said, "I have to get some rest. You should, too, if you're going on that case-"

 _Knock, knock._

I frowned, glanced out the kitchen window; the sun had dipped below the horizon, and day was sinking into night once again.

I frowned. "Not a ghost?..."

"Couldn't be. That ghost lamp's pretty handy when it comes to repelling Visitors."

"So..." I said, "Who is it?"

"Ah!" said a new voice. I looked up; Toby had just skipped down the stairs. He was dressed business-casual, with the same messy black hair and guarded gray eyes. He had healed well since the infamous incident on Whitewood Lane, and didn't even walk with a limp now. "I forgot to tell you, didn't I?" He said. "Our guest is staying tonight. Must be prepared for tomorrow."

I tensed. My eyes widened. "What?"

Toby didn't say anything. He simply strolled towards our door. A moment later, I heard the twist of a knob; "Ms. Carlyle. Please, come in."

 **Well, that's it. Sorry if I didn't get a lot done with this chapter. I think the next one will be longer, with the new case and all. :P**


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